The Lost Children
by nymphxdora
Summary: Teddy Lupin thought his fifth year at Hogwarts would be just like all the others: schoolwork, friends, with the occasional bit of drama thrown in to make things interesting. Then the muggleborns started disappearing, and everything changed.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Don't try anything funny, Lupin."

His grandmother had warned him about these kinds of situations. Ever since he was a child, she'd made him aware that he might be targeted, laughed at, attacked. Be brave, she'd always said, _but don't be stupid_.

He stared straight into his assailant's eyes, his expression unflinching. "You don't have the nerve," he said, trying to sound more confident than he really was. "You never have, and you never will."

The other's eyebrow twitched. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

For the first time, he felt fear, real fear. He'd been scared of many things before: failing tests, being punished for transgressions, and most of all, disappointing his friends, but never before had he felt like this—vulnerable, alone, powerless.

His enemy was perceptive; somehow, they managed to pick up on this, and he watched the other's mouth curl into a cruel, almost sadistic smile. "No one's coming for you. You're all alone. Poor, itty, bitty, Lupin."

"If you do this," he said, "you'll never be able to live with yourself."

"Perhaps. But that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Teddy Lupin watched as his attacker raised his wand and pointed it squarely between his eyes. Despite his best intentions to maintain his bravery, he felt his breath hitch in his throat, and his hands shook ever so slightly. He was afraid, so afraid that he could focus on nothing but the dark tip of the wand, and yet he was suddenly aware of a thought entering his mind, crystal clear.

 _Is this how they felt?_

"Are you ready, Lupin?" his assailant said softly, yet cruelly. "Are you ready to meet the same sorry end as your parents?"

No, Teddy thought, this wasn't how they must have felt. They were braver; they knew they were going to die and they gladly gave up their lives so that he could live in a better world. And because of that, he wasn't ready to throw his life down the drain just yet.

"Don't do this," he said through gritted teeth. "You still have a chance: just let me help you. _Please_."

For a moment, he thought he'd broken through the wall, but the other merely raised an eyebrow and said: "Say it again." There was no hint of empathy, no hint of the person that Teddy had once known. All that had vanished, replaced with apathy, maliciousness.

And in that moment, Teddy knew that he had lost.

* * *

 **A/N:** A short prologue that precedes a much, _much_ longer chapter (coming your way on Wednesday, 8PM GMT, same place) Faves, follows and reviews are better than chocolate.


	2. Chapter 2: The Establishment

**Chapter Two: The Establishment**

 _I: Unoriginally, beginnings_

This is a story about many things and many people, but first and foremost, it is a story about growing up. This is a story about a boy named Teddy Lupin, and how, all of a sudden, his life, and the world around him began to change in ways that no one could have possibly predicted. This is a story about friendship, and how it is possible to survive anything with the help of one's friends (however cliché that may sound). This is a story about the complexity and uncertainty of life, and how, despite our best attempts to trick ourselves into believing so, there is no such thing as normal.

No one can be exactly certain when it all started, because it is rather difficult to pinpoint the exact event that set the ball rolling. It could be that it all began on the fifth of April, 1998, when, at precisely thirteen thirty-four, Nymphadora Tonks gave an almighty shout, Remus Lupin gripped her hand, and a minute later, the midwife declared that she had given birth to a healthy baby boy. Or perhaps it began less than a month later, on the second of May, when both parents were murdered tragically, leaving their son in the care of his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks. Maybe it started when eleven-year-old Teddy Lupin received a letter written in green ink, and went off to Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the very first time.

Any one of the above moments—and a great number not listed—would be an adequate starting point for our story, but when Teddy looked back on it several years later, he believed that it all began on the twenty-first of August, 2013, during the summer before he began his fifth year at Hogwarts.

And since, after all, this is primarily Teddy's story, we should probably begin there, on that warm summer's day in Diagon Alley.

.oOo.

 _II: Before things changed_

If Teddy Lupin had to pick his favourite part of wizarding London, he would choose Diagon Alley.

It was, perhaps, an odd choice; he was the kind of person who preferred things to be a little offbeat. Crowded places were often not his scene; he liked little known shops, and cafes because they made him feel as if he was in on some kind of special, exclusive secret. But Diagon Alley was different; he loved its ever-changing nature, and it held a special place in his heart, likely because of all of the great memories he had had there.

So many things had happened to him in Diagon Alley. He'd bought his first wand, got lost down Knockturn Alley with Victoire Weasley, his childhood best friend, had his first Butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron, and, five years ago, had met one of his very best friends from school, Alfie Hayes, in Flourish and Blotts.

They sat together now, under the warm afternoon sun, outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, chocolate sundaes in hand. A discarded copy of the _Daily Prophet_ lay on the table next to them; neither boy had paid it much heed, for they were far too preoccupied to care about the news now. They hadn't seen each other in months, and were busy catching up.

"St. Andrews was _awful_ ," Alfie told Teddy earnestly. "It's a beautiful place and everything, but it was just so boring, and I had nothing to do for a week, while Dad gave his presentation. He tried to explain it to me and get me enthusiastic about it, but," he shuddered dramatically, " _psychology_. It's so dull." Alfie was a muggleborn, the son of an Oxford professor, and, as a result, had spent much of his summer traipsing around the country as his father attended numerous conferences.

"At least you got out of Oxford," Teddy said. He, on the other hand, had spent most of his summer at his house in Godric's Hollow with his grandmother, save for the occasional visit to his godfather. Still, nothing nearly as exciting as what Alfie had been up to.

Alfie shrugged. "I think I'd rather have stayed, honestly. It'd have certainly been more relaxing."

"Bet you Ella had a better summer than both of us."

"Doesn't she always?" Alfie said, dryly. "She's allowed to traipse all over wizarding and muggle London, and do whatever she wants all day. If only I could live in London— I'd never run out of things to do. Speaking of Ella—where is she?"

Teddy checked his watch. "She said she'd be here at two forty-five, there're still about fifteen minutes."

"Oh." Alfie sounded almost disappointed.

"Were you hoping she'd be late?"

"Well, it'd be one for the books if she was, wouldn't it?"

At this, Teddy laughed. Ella Anderson was his other best friend from school, and unlike Teddy and Alfie—who were both Hufflepuffs—she was a Ravenclaw. Unsurprisingly, she was more conscientious than the two of them combined: she was never late, she handed her homework in on time, and she always started studying for exams at least two months in advance. Sometimes Teddy wished that his life was as well put together as hers.

"I can't believe that she blew us off for Leonardo Torricelli, though," Alfie said huffily. "We were _supposed_ to meet this morning, until she said she couldn't because she had to meet that Torricelli bloke, god knows what for."

"For the Transfiguration project, Alfie," Teddy reminded him, gently. "The one that we haven't started."

Alfie turned pink. "I forgot about that."

"Don't worry, we've got plenty of time."

"Why must teachers give us work over the holidays? It takes all the fun out of them! Not that my holiday's been much fun anyway."

Teddy nodded in agreement. His certainly hadn't been—he loved his grandmother, and his godfather, but the lack of company his own age had certainly gotten to him a little bit. Victoire Weasley, who was usually around during the summer, had gone off to France with her parents for the entirety of the holidays, and Alfie, in Oxford, and Ella, in London, lived too far away for him to see them regularly. It was only because they had to buy their new books for school that they were able to meet up like this again. He'd been looking forward to seeing them ever since they planned the trip; just seeing Alfie again had brightened his mood significantly.

Now, he thought, checking his watch again, if only Ella would hurry up.

.oOo.

 _III. A little about Ella_

Ella Anderson did not fancy herself like other fifteen-year-old girls.

Other fifteen year old girls spent hours on their make-up, poured over _Teen Witch_ like it contained the secret to eternal life, gossiped with their girlfriends, and obsessed over every boy that passed their way. Ella rarely wore more than a smidge of eyeliner, preferred to read _Transfiguration Today_ , had very few girlfriends, and had no interest in any single boy.

Well, okay, maybe one boy.

And even that interest had only surfaced fairly recently. As in, five minutes ago.

It was all Professor Ellacott's fault, she mused, as she stood on the Tube on her way to Charing Cross. If Professor Ellacott had simply let her work in a three with Teddy and Alfie on their summer Transfiguration project, she might never have been paired with Leonardo Torricelli. If she'd never been paired with Leonardo Torricelli, she would never have arranged to meet him at the Shafiq Public Library of Magic, and he would have never asked her to lunch—and paid for the whole thing himself, despite her protests. And then she would have never found out that they liked the same books—historical fiction, both wizard and muggle—that they both listened to the _Pygmy Puffs_ (and that they both agreed that the new album was a bit awful), and that they were both rather fond of current affairs.

She had to admit, it was awfully nice of him to take her to lunch. He certainly didn't have to do that. She almost wished he _hadn't_ done that, because then she most certainly wouldn't be obsessing over whether it was a _date_ or just a casual lunch between friends.

It was probably the latter, she told herself. But quite honestly, she wouldn't have minded if it _was_ a date. She quite wanted it to be a date, actually.

 _Merlin, what is wrong with me?_

Sighing, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and attempted to distract herself by looking at the news. Although she spent most of the year immersed in the wizarding world, she had grown up in the muggle world (well, partially), and it was the world that her parents, and—much to everyone's disappointment—her brother were a part of. She felt a sort of responsibility to keep up with what was going on in it.

An item at the top of the BBC website caught her eye: _eleven-year-old girl missing in London area._ She clicked on it, and an image of a doe-eyed, freckled-faced brunette loaded. She was wearing a green striped school tie and a blazer, and was staring up at the camera with an eager smile. The caption read: _Melissa Cooper, eleven-year-old resident of Parsons Green, and former student of Queen Victoria Primary School was reported missing eighteen hours ago._

Ella's heart went out to the poor girl. Parsons Green wasn't far from Kensington, where she lived; she hated to think that such horrible things could happen so close to home.

She was about to put her phone away when it rang. One glance at the caller ID, and she picked it up immediately. "Is everything okay?"

"God, you worry too bloody much, sis."

"Language, Ashton," Ella warned.

"Sorry," Ashton Anderson, Ella's thirteen-year-old brother, said at the other end of the phone, although he did not sound remorseful at all.

"So I'll assume everything's okay, then."

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Mum and dad are at the office, Rajiv just gave me lunch, and…" He trailed off for no apparent reason.

"And?" Ella prompted.

Silence.

"Ashton?"

"Can I go to the park with Abby and Daniel?"

Ella groaned. Although she was glad that her brother had several friends in the Kensington area, she didn't like the idea of him wandering around London alone. They might live in a rather affluent locale, but the city wasn't exactly safe, as the news item about the kidnapped girl had reminded her all too well.

"Please, Ella?"

"You know mum and dad don't like you going out by yourself."

"I'll be with Abby and Daniel! And you go out by yourself all the time."

 _That's because I can protect myself in ways you can't,_ she thought to herself, but she said nothing. Magic was a slightly sore subject around her brother; no one had been more disappointed that he had been when he didn't get his Hogwarts letter, even though their parents had raised both of them to understand that the likelihood of either of them being able to go to the school was very, very slim. Still, there had been a chance; after all, Ella had managed to somehow get the magic.

"Fine," she relented. "Just, be careful, okay? It's dangerous out there."

Ashton snorted. "It's _Kensington_. How dangerous could it possibly be?"

"A girl was kidnapped in Hammersmith & Fulham yesterday."

"Yeah, but _where_ in Hammersmith  & Fulham?"

"Parsons Green."

There was silence at the other end of the phone. "Oh."

Ella didn't like bursting her brother's bubble, but he needed to be aware that the muggle world – even the wizarding world, for that matter—was not all it was cracked up to be. Ashton might be privileged enough to live a rather cushy life, but he needed to be aware that there were dangers out there.

"Tell Rajiv where you're going, and when you'll be back," she said.

"He'll just put a Locator Spell on me," Ashton complained.

"And that's a good thing," Ella reminded him. Rajiv, the Anderson's butler, of sorts, was the only other person in the household who had skills like Ella's. He had been with the family since before Ella was born, and his family had assisted her mother's family for generations, even before her grandmother had moved to England from India. His loyalty was unwavering; when it had become evident what her mother was, he'd looked after her as she made the transition into the muggle world, and stayed with her even when she'd married Ella's father, a British muggle fashion designer.

"If you insist," Ashton grumbled. "Have fun in Diagon Alley."

"I will," Ella said. "Love you."

Ashton grunted, and disconnected the phone. She shrugged—he was a thirteen-year-old boy, what else could she expect?

The tube came to a screeching halt at Charing Cross station, and she got off. As she moved up the escalators, through the turnstiles and into the busy London streets, she felt a wave of excitement rush through her. All thoughts of Leonardo Torricelli, the poor kidnapped girl, and her brother left her head; all she could focus on was seeing her two best friends again.

Little did she know that in less than three hours, she would learn something that would change everything.

.oOo.

 _IV: The trio, reunited._

The first few moments of being reunited with friends are always the best. They're full of excitement, of questions being thrown around without really being answered, of allowing the other's presence to really sink in. They're about catching up without really catching up, about establishing that despite time passing, nothing truly important has really changed. And most importantly for Teddy, being with his friends again was full of the recognition that he was no longer alone. It was full of the knowledge that a whole new set of adventures was soon to begin.

Not that he had any idea about the magnitude of those adventures quite yet. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

They spent the first five minutes or so hanging outside the ice cream shop as Alfie finished his second sundae, catching each other up on their summers. Neither Alfie nor Teddy had much to say—Ella, on the other hand, had been to West End shows, gallery openings and had even had a weekend in Milan, but still somehow thought her summer had been boring.

"I wish my summer was as boring as yours, Ella," Alfie moaned, jealously.

Ella rolled her eyes. "You really don't."

"But I do."

"I'd much rather have gone on the tour of the universities with your father. All that knowledge," her eyes gleamed, "all those hallowed halls of knowledge."

"You're _such_ a Ravenclaw."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well…"

"It's not a bad thing! Ravenclaws are wonderful! Just because you're a Hufflepuff…"

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?"

"Nothing!"

"Speaking of Ravenclaws," Teddy interjected.

"We were speaking of Hufflepuffs, actually," Ella said, matter-of-factly

"Oh, never mind. How was your library date with Leonardo Torricelli?"

He expected her to shrug, mention something about his ineptitude (as far as Ella was concerned, everyone except her was inept when it came to schoolwork) and how frustrating it was because he refused to listen to her even though she obviously knew best.

Therefore, he was very, very surprised when she turned a bright shade of red.

"I didn't mean real date, Ella," he said, puzzled. "It's a figure of speech, you know, not—"

"He took me to lunch."

"He what?" Teddy and Alfie exclaimed in unison.

Ella looked rather affronted. "Why are you two acting so surprised?"

"No reason," Teddy said, quickly. He didn't actually know why the idea of Leonardo Torricelli taking Ella Anderson out to lunch was so shocking—Ella was, after all, fairly pretty, with glossy dark hair, soft features, and deep, thoughtful eyes that were, rather unfortunately, obscured by her glasses. Perhaps it was the thought of Leonardo Torricelli, who was just so…unremarkable. Teddy didn't think they'd exchanged more than a perfunctory conversation in their four years of acquaintance.

There was silence for a few moments, before Alfie said: "Did you have a good time, then?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it was wonderful. Leo and I like loads of the same things and—"

"He's _Leo_ now?" Alfie interrupted.

The Ravenclaw turned an even deeper shade of red; so much so that it was distinctly perceptible against her tanned skin tone. "Well…yes, that is his name, you know, and he was awfully nice and…" she trailed off and sighed dramatically. "You know what, I'm making too big a deal of this. It was probably just a casual thing as friends, nothing more."

"No, no." Teddy shot Alfie a look. "Tell us about it!"

She shook her head. "No, I don't really feel like elaborating. Let's just change the subject, please? Have you heard from Victoire lately, Teddy?"

Teddy sighed; he was awfully curious about Ella's lunch with Torricelli, for some inexplicable reason (all right, perhaps it wasn't inexplicable—he was just very interested in what his best friends got up to), but had no way of bringing it back into the conversation. "Victoire's fine," he said. "She's in France, with her family, and she wants me to send her love." Although Victoire was Teddy's childhood friend, she was in the year below them at Hogwarts, and had often spent time with the trio. She wasn't necessarily close to Ella and Alfie, but she did count them among her friends.

"And Riley?"

Teddy snorted. "Does anyone but Victoire _ever_ hear from Riley?"

"She wrote to me that one time before third year, remember?" Alfie piped up.

"Because she wanted your Herbology homework."

"Oh." His face fell. "Right."

.oOo.

 _V: Money, money, money (and time)_

Shopping for school, Teddy thought, was not much fun.

"I just don't understand," he said, as they paid for the last of their schoolbooks at Flourish & Blotts. "Instead of buying all these books, and potions ingredients, and robes and everything, I could've bought myself—oh, I don't know—an owl—"

"Or a nice broom," Alfie, who had been a Hufflepuff Chaser since second-year, chipped in.

"Exactly."

"You're exaggerating," Ella said, lifting the heavy bag of books over her shoulder—Teddy couldn't help but think that she'd bought at least twice as many as he and Alfie put together. "Books are important. They're far more valuable than one of those racing brooms of yours."

"Speak for yourself," Alfie muttered grumpily.

"Well, think about it! You'll buy a broom today, and it'll be the latest and greatest, but then a new one will be out in a couple of months and the broom you bought will be worthless, and it'll be money down the drain. Books, on the other hand, will never go out of style."

"That's because they're already out of style."

Ella gave Alfie a murderous look.

As usual, it fell to Teddy to diffuse the tension. "What say we go to the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer?"

"Can we stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies on the way?"

"No," said Ella.

"Don't be mean, Ella!" Alfie pouted.

"No, I'm serious—you'll spend hour in there, and I've got to be home in an hour, so if you want a butterbeer, we'll have to go now."

Alfie looked as if he was having trouble making the decision, but eventually relented, "Butterbeer it is then."

"He made the right decision," Ella whispered to Teddy, as they walked in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. "I'd have found some way to hex him otherwise."

.oOo.

 _VI: (w)(b)itches_

Until a month ago, jokes about the Leaky Cauldron's appearance had been circulating around wizarding society. The pub had been around for longer than anyone could remember, and yet no one could recall the last time it had been properly refurbished. The wood was scratched, the beds creaked and when it rained heavily, as was common in London, the ceiling leaked.

All that had changed recently, when Hannah Abbot, the landlady, had decided that her pub was seriously in need of modernisation. Although it retained its age-old feeling, the wood had been polished, the furniture had been replaced, new lighting had been installed, and the ceilings had been fixed, making it an altogether much more enjoyable place to spend a few hours in.

The change was reflected in the clientele; although he knew it had always been a popular destination, Teddy didn't think he had ever seen the Leaky Cauldron so crowded. He, Ella and Alfie were unable to find an empty booth, and so perched themselves at the bar instead, and ordered three butterbeers.

"It's madness in here," Ella said, as she took a sip of her chilled drink. "I suppose the refurbishment has really worked out well for them."

"I'm glad," Alfie said. "Isn't the lady who owns it—"

"Professor Longbottom's wife, yes," Ella finished for him.

"I hope we don't see Professor Longbottom."

"I thought you liked him!" Teddy exclaimed. Professor Neville Longbottom, who taught Herbology, was one of his favourite teachers at Hogwarts. Although Herbology wasn't necessarily his best subject, Longbottom was a close friend of his godfather and had made a concerted effort to look after Teddy during his time at Hogwarts.

"Of course I like Professor Longbottom—I just haven't started the Herbology essay yet, that's all."

"Alfie," Ella groaned, "how many times do I have to tell you to organise your time better? If you'd done it at the beginning of the holiday's like I had, you'd wouldn't be—"

"Teddy? Alfie?"

A petite girl with long ginger hair approached them, a glass of water in her hand.

"Oh great," Ella muttered under her breath.

"Hi Daisy," Teddy said. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Oh, Teddy, you know I don't live too far away! It's so wonderful to see you, and Alfie! I suppose you were doing your shopping then."

Ella cleared her throat. "Hello, Shipkins."

Daisy Shipkins, fifth-year Hufflepuff, turned, looked at Ella and nodded. "Hello, Anderson," she said mirthlessly.

Teddy and Alfie exchanged looks. There was absolutely zero love lost between Ella and Daisy Shipkins—they had never gotten along, ever since first year, when Daisy had made some choice comments about an older Hufflepuff girl that Ella had not agreed with. Teddy supposed he couldn't blame Ella; after all, although Daisy quite liked Teddy and Alfie, whether they liked her was another matter entirely. Daisy was, and always had been, rather petty and, quite frankly, a bit bitchy. She was the self-proclaimed alpha of her little gaggle of Hufflepuff girls, and was the kind of girl who thought herself far more superior than everyone else.

In any conversation, including this particular one, she made this little fact very clear, very quickly. "Did you hear? That old hag McGonagall didn't make me Hufflepuff Prefect. Can you believe it?"

Teddy thought he rather could, but he feigned surprise.

"I suppose, you're one of the Hufflepuff Prefects then, Teddy." Teddy nodded—much to his and his grandmother's excitement, he'd received the badge in the mail with his Hogwarts' letter. "Congratulations," she said, without sounding like she meant it. "It's probably the only good decision that witch made—did you hear who's Head Girl?"

"No," Alfie said. "Who?"

" _Bella Watso_ n." She said the name as if it was a dirty word.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Alfie exclaimed. "She definitely deserves it—she's such a wonderful person. She helped me with my Defense Against the Dark Arts last year, she's the reason why I passed. And she's a wonderful Quidditch player too. Oh, I'm so happy." He suddenly caught sight of Daisy's face, which was as red as her hair. "Should I, er, not be?"

"Of course not!" she practically bellowed. "She's a slag—she's snogged all the boys in her year, and probably some of the girls too."

"She's not a slag," Ella pointed out calmly, taking a sip of butterbeer.

"What do you know, Anderson? I bet you've never kissed a boy before."

If this bothered Ella, she didn't show it. "You just don't like her because she beat out your sister for Hufflepuff Seeker."

"Laura deserved to be on the team!" Daisy exclaimed. Her suspicions confirmed, Ella settled back on her chair and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say 'what did I tell you?' She picked up a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet on the bar, and began to skim read it, removing herself from the conversation. Teddy wished that he could do the same.

"So who's the other Hufflepuff Prefect then?" he asked, figuring that if anyone knew, it would be Daisy.

"Matilda Goshawk," she muttered darkly. "The _bitch_."

Teddy had heard Matilda Goshawk described as many things: quiet, mousey, a little odd, a bit of a loner, but never, ever a bitch. Matilda Goshawk was the kind of person who'd probably never had a bitchy thought in her life.

He was about to say as much when Ella, not looking up from her newspaper, suddenly shouted: "Hey! It's that girl!"

"What girl?" Teddy asked.

"This one." She flipped the newspaper around and pointed at an image that took up most of the page. The first thing that Teddy noticed was that it was stationary—rather odd, considering that the Daily Prophet was, after all, a wizarding newspaper. The photo seemed to be a portrait of a girl: round-faced, freckles, messy brown hair. She couldn't have been more than eleven years old.

"Where've you been, Anderson?" Daisy said in a dull voice. "You live in London. Didn't your family get the wizard alert by post last night? You couldn't have expected it not to be in the Prophet."

Teddy and Alfie were both fully aware that Ella's family would not have gotten the wizard alert - the Ministry's system of warnings delivered to all wizarding households - but they didn't say anything. Ella simply shrugged. "My parents got an owl, but they haven't read the letter yet. They're busy people."

"Then how did you recognise the girl?"

"Who is this girl?" Alfie said, looking rather perplexed.

"She was on the muggle news," Ella said. "Her name's Melissa Cooper, she's eleven, and she went missing from Parsons Green yesterday."

"Where?"

"It's a place in London. But why's she in the wizard news? I thought she was a muggle!"

"She's a muggleborn," Daisy said, rather gleeful that she, for once, actually knew something Ella didn't. "Due to start at Hogwarts this year, only…well, she's missing now, so I suppose she won't be."

"Don't say that," Teddy exclaimed. "They might find her, you never know."

"Does the Ministry of Magic have some kind of police force?" Alfie asked.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Alfie, you've met Teddy's Uncle Harry. What do you think he does?"

"He's an Auror."

"And what do Aurors do?"

"Oh. Well, then. I'm sure wizards will be able to find her."

"Mm, I hope so," Daisy said, although she looked as if she couldn't care less. "At least there's a _possibility_ of a happy ending there. There's none for me, you know. I tried to get my mum to write to McGonagall like she did when _that slag Bella Watson_ got Prefect over my sister, but she refuses to because apparently it'll be of no avail. God knows why she chose Matilda! Matilda _Goshawk_ , of all people." She sniffed, and Teddy rolled his eyes- how was it even _possible_ to be so self-centred? "It's probably just because she's a Goshawk, you know. Her good-for-nothing twin's a Prefect too."

"Oh, Michael's a Prefect?" Teddy said, interested. "I didn't know that." Michael Goshawk was Matilda's Slytherin brother—he and Teddy were fairly good friends, although Michael preferred to hang around with Terence Gates. And Terence Gates and Teddy were most certainly not good friends—they were whatever the opposite of good friends were.

But more on that later.

"Yes, he is. I suppose it's to be expected, I mean, he's the only Slytherin who most people actually know- except Wallace Stimpson, of course, but that's only because he snogged Becca Dillion while he was still dating Morna Clemmons. The nerve, can you believe? Morna's so cute, why a boy would cheat on her, I don't understand. But anyway, back to the point."

Teddy was tempted to ask whether Daisy even had a point.

"Matilda," she said again. "Matilda _bloody_ Goshawk, a _bloody_ Prefect. God, I hate that girl."

"I thought you and Matilda were friends, though," Alfie said, puzzled. "I don't understand why you're so angry."

"Friends?"

"Yes, friends."

"Why would we be friends?"

"You share a dormitory," Teddy pointed out. "You've hung out together since first year, you sit together in classes and at lunch, you've visited each other during the holidays, she helped you when you almost failed Astronomy-"

"- We don't speak of that."

"Sorry. But that's not the point."

"What's the point?" Daisy asked innocently.

Teddy sighed dramatically. "The point, Daisy, is that you and Matilda are friends, and friends are happy for one another."

At this, Daisy gave a furious snort. "Ha! If we were friends, she'd have known how much I wanted to be a Prefect, and she'd have given it up. Fancy her telling me that I should be happy for her. As _if_."

She downed the last of her water, and declared, "I'm going to get some more. Just thinking about it makes me mad."

As she stormed away, the trio watched her wordlessly.

"You know," Teddy said, dryly. "For someone who claims to be popular, Daisy certainly has some funny ideas about friendship."

The other two nodded in silent agreement.

.oOo.

 _VII: Meals and their words_

Dinner at the Anderson household was a formal affair: the family sat around the large, ornate dining table, with all the dishes laid out in the middle, and discussed the weather, school and work (but rarely magic—at least, not when Ashton Anderson was present). Dinner at the Hayes household was a warm affair: the family sat on the couches in front of the TV, getting up occasionally to help themselves to freshly-cooked food from the kitchen. Dinner at the Lupin-Tonks household, on the other hand, was a quiet affair: just Teddy and his grandmother, alone in the house in Godric's Hollow.

Teddy had lived in Godric's Hollow for most of his life. After the war, his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, had sold her old house—it just had too many bad memories – and scraped together enough money to buy one in the locale where his godfather and his family lived. The house was small, but it was enough for the two of them, and Teddy wouldn't move anywhere else for the world; this was home.

He had returned from Diagon Alley after enduring another hour of Daisy Shipkins going on and on about Matilda Goshawk, Bella Watson and numerous other people who'd he'd barely known before, but was now intimately acquainted with, thanks to Daisy's blabbermouth.

"I mean, I did not want to know that Cynthia Zhang snogged Walter Hopkins in the broom cupboard on the second floor, or that Cordelia Cataware had gotten sma- er, tipsy, at Professor Slughorn's very last Slug Club party before retirement—but when Daisy Shipkins gets started, there's no stopping her," he told his grandmother who laughed lightly.

"She was probably trying to impress you with her knowledge."

Teddy made a face. "I certainly hope not. I don't like Daisy Shipkins that way. I don't really like Daisy Shipkins much in any way."

"I cannot say I blame you."

"You should have heard her talk about Matilda Goshawk- it was awful!"

"I'm sure you stuck up for the poor girl."

"Of course I did. Well, sort of." He hadn't actually explicitly told Daisy that she was over-reacting and being rather mean to the absent Matilda. Not that it made much of a difference anyway. "When Daisy makes up her mind about someone, nothing's going to change it."

"She's a lot like your friend Ella in that way."

"Yeah, but Ella's never mean. Stubborn, but not mean."

"That, from what I have heard, is true."

For a moment, they were silent. Teddy looked at his grandmother. She wasn't old, not as far as grandmothers went—only sixty-one—and yet the lines etched on her face told stories of ordeals beyond anything he could imagine. How she managed to still be so light-hearted, he did not know, but he was so very grateful to her.

"You didn't run into any trouble at Diagon Alley, did you?" she asked suddenly.

Teddy rolled his eyes. "Gran, I don't get in trouble everywhere I go."

"Really? That's news to me."

"Gran."

She laughed again. "I'm sorry, Teddy, you're right, I should be more trusting. I was simply wondering, what with that awful article in the Daily Prophet about that poor little girl…I would have expected some kind of Auror presence in the Alley."

"If there were Aurors, I didn't see them, which means that they're probably doing a fairly good job. I heard about the girl though—Ella saw her on the muggle news."

"Horrible, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I wonder if it had anything to do with wizards though—I mean, she hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet."

"Whatever happened, whoever took her, it must be awful for her poor parents." Andromeda Tonks was silent for a moment, and Teddy saw something like pain flicker through her eyes. When she spoke again, the quality of her voice had changed—it had become more raw, less controlled. "No one should ever have to lose a child."

It was at moments like this that Teddy Lupin was reminded that he was not a normal boy.

It wasn't because he was a wizard—there were plenty of those—or because he was a Metamorphmagus—although there weren't as many of those. It wasn't because his hair was a bright turquoise, or that it occasionally changed colour based on how he was feeling (although he'd gotten a lot better at controlling it in recent months). It was because a month after he was born, his parents were murdered, stolen away from him by people who had affiliated themselves with death and had barely any regard for life—especially not the lives of what they called half-breeds and blood traitors.

It was at moments like this that Teddy was reminded that although he had lost his parents, Andromeda Tonks had lost her daughter and son-in-law. He knew a few vague details about how she had left her pureblood family to marry a muggleborn, but it was enough to know that he was the only real family she had left.

There was silence for a moment. Teddy reached out and placed his hand on his grandmother's delicate skin. "I'm sorry, Gran."

She smiled ruefully. "It's alright, Teddy. There are some things that are out of our control. Let's just focus on the things we can control, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"So," the older woman said, with what Teddy was fairly sure was forced enthusiasm, "remind me how you eventually managed to get rid of Daisy Shipkins?"

It was at moments like this that Teddy Lupin and Andromeda Tonks were reminded that there was something missing from their lives, and although they'd never be able to fill that gap, life would have to go on.

.oOo.

 _VIII: Ten days later_

The days ticked by slowly. The twenty-first became the twenty-second, the twenty-second the twenty-third, and so on until it was the thirty-first of August. But if one relied on the Daily Prophet to gauge the passage of time, it would have seemed as if hardly any had gone by at all. The headline was the same, day in and day out.

 _Muggleborn girl remains missing. Auror office says no leads._

That was all about to change.

Night had long since fallen over London, and the face of the city had changed. The tourists and children had gone to bed, the businessmen had returned to their families and the streets were no longer clogged up with people trying to find their way through the maze of neighbourhoods. An entirely different population had come out: the clubbers, the night-dwellers, and, in some areas, the criminals.

The masked individual waited in the darkness of Whitehall until he was sure everyone had left the underground structure. The Minister, he knew, worked late, and the last thing he wanted was to run into him while carrying out his task—it would certainly make for an awkward interaction, and even _he_ would struggle to get out of the incriminating position.

But eventually he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt's dark muscular figure leave. He watched as the Minister walked down the street, and he wondered, for a moment, whether he had a family to go home to, whether he had a family who would be able to console and comfort him when this all blew up in his face.

Probably not.

The smirk grew beneath his mask, and after waiting another half an hour—just to be sure—he slipped into the bathroom, and took the worker's entrance in.

The Ministry of Magic was eerily silent: the Atrium was pitch-black, and he blended right in. No one would ever know he was here: the others were taking care of that, and the lone Security Wizard simply didn't see him until it was too late.

"Stupefy."

The wizard's eyes went blank and he fell to the ground. The intruder stepped over his unconscious body. One of the others had suggested that they kill the wizard, to send a message, but he had decided against it. He had no qualms about taking lives, but at this stage it was wasteful, unnecessary.

Plus, he had seen the rosters; he knew who was on duty, and there was simply no point in spilling decent blood.

He checked once again to make sure that he was alone, and then set about his work. He completed his task quickly, but with great precision and attention to detail; if he was going to do something, he might as well do it right, give them a proper piece of work to write about, rather than a shoddy, messy inscription.

He left the Ministry the same way he came. As he moved out into the street, a group of muggle teenagers bumped into him; they were laughing, and he could smell the alcohol on their breath.

They had no idea what was coming.

He disappeared into the city, allowing its blackness to envelope him whole.

.oOo.

 _IX: Three hours past midnight_

When the Security Wizard – a man by the name of Randy Brocklehurst—woke up, his head was pounding, and he knew something was wrong.

When he realised _what_ was wrong, he knew that he had to call his superiors immediately, even though he would probably be fired.

When his superiors arrived, they called the Minister of Magic immediately, and told Brocklehurst that he was not fired (much to his relief), but he must not under any circumstances say anything to anyone, and most particularly not the _Daily Prophet._

Somehow, the _Daily Prophet_ found out anyway, but after a request from the Minister, agreed not to publish what had happened. Instead, the headline the next morning read _"Ministry closed to the public today for unknown reasons."_

They did not run the picture that had been anonymously sent to them: an image of a pillar in the centre of the atrium, with a message freshly engraved on it, and signed with a grotesque, intricate inscription of a skull:

 _We have Melissa Cooper. She is still alive, and shall continue to live if you comply with our demands. More to come._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thank you to all the amazing people who have reviewed, faved and followed - you guys are the best, and you totally make my day! If you loved, hated or are indifferent to this chapter - review, review, review! I'd love to know what you guys think and I promise you my eternal love.

Chapter Three is entitled 'The Journey' and will be with you next Wednesday! See you then!


	3. Chapter 3: The Journey

**Chapter Three: The Journey**

 _I: Lost (but not found): twelve days ago_

Alexandra Cooper had always wanted one thing for her daughter: the best.

Unfortunately, her life and circumstance had been such that the best hadn't often been possible. Her husband had died when her daughter was only two years old, leaving Alexandra with more debt than anything else, and she'd had to work two jobs just to keep them above water. But then, slowly, things began to look up: she applied and was instated as a manager of a new retail start-up that had blossomed overnight, and had married its CEO, John Wilkes. She lived in a beautiful house in a wonderful neighbourhood, and for the first time in many, many years, she could be certain of being able to provide for her child.

Melissa Cooper was the kind of daughter that every parent wanted. She was kind, intelligent, popular, cute, and responsible.

And now, she was _special_.

Alexandra had always known that there was something about her daughter that wasn't normal. For one thing, she'd never been able to keep a babysitter. They all seemed to think that there was something wrong with Melissa. Things she didn't like inexplicably shattered, the clock never seemed to show that it was bedtime, her vegetables disappeared off her plate so quickly that there was no way she could have eaten them.

"It's almost like magic," one babysitter had said, as she dropped the spare keys back into Alexandra's hand, shaking her head. "I just can't deal with it any more."

That babysitter, it turns out, had been rather perceptive. For just a month ago, a strange woman in what Alexandra thought looked awfully like the academic robes that her sister had worn at Cambridge, had shown up on their doorstep bringing a letter, and the surprising news that magic was real, and that her daughter, Melissa Cooper, was a witch.

John had been confused, Melissa had been over the moon, and Alexandra … well, it had taken her a while to wrap her head around it, but once she managed to comprehend the notion of an entire magical world existing, she was thrilled. Her daughter was special, unique in ways that she could barely imagine.

They'd taken Melissa to a place called Diagonal Alley- or perhaps it was Diagon Alley? - to buy her school things, and Alexandra fell in love almost immediately with the quaint cobbled streets, the people in funny clothes and hats, the books with odd titles and the shops with strange names. The idea that this had all been there for all thirty-eight years of her life, unbeknownst to her, was the strangest feeling- and now, this was her daughter's world.

It had felt like a dream come true, until, on the twentieth of August, that dream had turned into a nightmare.

 _How could she be gone?_

It had been a normal day until then: she'd given Melissa breakfast, left for work with John and returned at five PM. She'd gotten out of the car and walked the short distance to her front door; she'd heard the neighbourhood children playing, and noticed an odd, freshly painted symbol on a wall near her house: a skull with something odd coming out of its mouth. She pointed it out to John, who shook his head disapprovingly - probably one of those kid gangs being rowdy again.

Alexandra had known something was wrong the moment her key wouldn't turn in the lock. She'd known something was wrong when John had suggested that she try the handle, and the door had swung open. She'd known something was wrong when she called Melissa's name and got no response.

John thought she might have just gone out to play, but Alexandra knew that Melissa would have left a note. Still, she called every one of Melissa's friends' parents: all of them knew where their children were, and no, none of them had seen Melissa.

She did what she had to do. Shaking, she called the police, who took her statement and promised to put out an alert. Ten minutes after they left, she felt as if she couldn't simply sit and do nothing, so, despite John's protests, she pulled on a coat, and was about to take to the streets, calling her daughter's name, hoping, praying that she was simply lost, hiding in a corner somewhere, afraid.

But as she opened the door, she came face to face with two individuals she'd never seen before: a man, and a woman, both wearing those robes that looked like academic gowns, with little 'A' badges pinned to them.

"We're from the Ministry of Magic," the man explained. "We understand your daughter, Melissa Cooper, is missing."

Alexandra blinked. "You...you think it has something to do with your lot?"

They exchanged looks, and in that moment, Alexandra knew (inexplicably, for even the Aurors themselves, did not know) that her daughter was not lost.

She'd been taken, and by wizards at that.

And in that split second of realisation, all the magic went out of the last few weeks, and for the first time ever, Alexandra Cooper found herself wishing that her daughter was not special.

 _Why couldn't she have been normal?_

.oOo.

 _II: The fall of France (five days before)_

Victoire Weasley was sick and tired of France.

Oh, it was _lovely_ for the first few days- good weather, nice scenery… but that was about it. Her cousins were too young for her to have any fun with them, her grandmother and grandfather were jovial, but overbearing, and their constant interrogation about her life got to be a bit much after a while. Her Aunt Gabrielle, the only person she actually liked, was busy most of the time, and Victoire was very, very bored.

Two weeks would have been fine. They _always_ spent two weeks in France. Why her mother had to go and decide that Victoire hadn't experienced enough of France, she didn't know- she spoke the language, didn't she? Wasn't that enough? And even then, it wasn't as if they were actually going around France to places that they had yet to experience (Victoire, personally, would have loved to visit Paris). Nope, they were just _stuck_ in the _countryside_ in the _middle of nowhere._

God, she hated her parents.

Well, her mum, at least. Her dad, she supposed, was alright. At least he'd stuck up for her when she'd got awfully stroppy (understandably so, in her opinion) after a month.

The holiday from hell would be over tomorrow morning: her father had set up the Portkey to take them back to England, and she'd spend the next few days relaxing at home while getting ready for school. She was to be going into her fourth year at Hogwarts, and - much to her irritation- her sister, Dominique, would be going into her second.

It wasn't that she didn't _like_ Dominique, but the younger girl was - well, to put it quite frankly - a pain. If only her sister had just listened to their mother, and gone to Beauxbatons. At least then Victoire wouldn't have to deal with her following her around all the time, complaining about how they didn't spend enough time together.

It was this that she was dwelling on that evening, when she found herself unable to sleep. Her throat was dry and itchy (she hoped she wasn't coming down with something that would delay their return journey to the UK), and for some stupid reason, she'd forgotten to bring a glass of water upstairs with her. Silently cursing, she rolled out of bed, slipped her feet into her fluffy slippers, quietly opened the door and headed for the stairs.

There was a low light emanating from the drawing room, and as Victoire descended the first few steps, she heard voices, and froze.

"... but surely zis ees normal- zey are, after all, ze Ministry of Magic."

Victoire rolled her eyes; this was, unmistakably, her mother.

" _Oui_ , but ze letters zey have received over ze last few days are different… zey think zey have something to do with her."

This, Victoire recognised as being her Aunt Gabrielle. Her heart lifted- she had thought she would only see her briefly the next morning before they left, as she was very busy with her job at the French Ministry of Magic. Victoire began to descend again, but froze when the adults - consisting of her mother, her father and her aunt - came into view.

There was something about the way they were positioned - close together, forming a tight circle- the way they were speaking in hushed tones that told Victoire that she should not be listening- not that it truly mattered to her. She tip-toed back up to the landing and pressed herself against the wall, allowing the darkness to envelope her as she listened.

"...these threats, you say they mention the girl specifically?" Bill Weasley asked.

 _What girl?_ Victoire thought.

"I do not know for sure- ze British Ministry are being very… what ees the word...secretive about ze whole thing. It ees clear zat zey do not want zis getting out. But I have my contacts in your Ministry, and zey tell me zat these letters… they mention things zat could only be about ze girl."

"And there's no way to trace the letters?"

"None. Ze Aurors have tried."

There was silence for a few moments; Victoire attempted to use it to make sense of what was going on, but could not- what girl? Why were the Aurors involved with this girl? What was going on in Britain that the adults clearly knew about? She felt a stab of betrayal- she expected such withholding of information from her parents, of course, but her _aunt_? Never.

Gabrielle Delacour was one of the rare adults who hadn't forgotten what it was like to be a child. Victoire had always felt like she could trust her aunt. She could tell Gabrielle anything, and although she may be disapproving, she would never tell anyone else. She was always so completely honest with Victoire- she never treated her like a child, incapable of understanding the complexity and the dynamics of the world, even if Victoire _hadn't_ been able to understand.

It didn't feel good to know that perhaps she hadn't shared absolutely everything with her.

Victoire's mother broke the silence (and Victoire's train of thought): "Surely, ze Aurors have some ideas about where zis girl ees. After all, zey are ze best of ze best."

"Zere's no trace of her. Zey still don't have anything and zat's just the problem- a person, they cannot just disappear."

Bill cleared his throat. "It's not possible that...well … that she's- "

"I hope not."

Fleur again: "Do zey at least have some sort of idea about why ze girl was taken?"

Silence. "Zey do, but no one wants to believe it."

Victoire Weasley did not think herself stupid (despite not being a Ravenclaw, like her sister) but if someone had asked her what she thought was going on, she would have had absolutely no clue. In fact, she had never been so confused in her life. Letters addressed to the British Ministry, a girl who seemed to have disappeared into thin air, for a reason that nobody wanted to think about… none of it made any sense, at all.

The subject of the conversation downstairs changed, and Victoire, not believing that she could face her family without demonstrating in some way or another that she had heard (but not understood) their previous conversation, slipped silently back into her room, cursing her parents once again, for bringing her to France and keeping her completely out of the loop.

.oOo.

 _III: The Oxford dilemma (the day of)_

For many individuals, Alfie Hayes included, leaving home at the end of summer is one of those things that never gets easier, no matter how many times you do it.

The first time, he hadn't wanted to go at all. Yes, he was excited to start a new school, meet new people and - most of all - learn about magic, but he didn't understand why he had to travel so far to do it. Surely there were magical day schools nearby that he could attend, while still living at home, with all the comforts that it entailed: his own room, his mother's cooking, his parent's support. But he'd had no choice: it was dangerous, the witch who had told him about his abilities had explained, for his magic to be left unharnessed, untrained. He had to go.

The second, third and fourth times, he had wanted to go back a little bit. He wasn't going into the unknown anymore, instead, he knew exactly what to expect. He knew what to look forward to - seeing Teddy, Ella and all his other friends again, playing Quidditch, eating copious amounts of food at the feasts - and what not to look forward to - exams, homework, and having to deal with idiots like Terence Gates. And yet leaving his parents behind was always difficult, because each time he got on the train, he felt as if he was moving further and further away from them, and their world.

And although he _was_ a wizard, he never wanted to lose the integral part of his identity that had come from spending eleven years in the muggle world. He never wanted to forget that once upon a time, he hadn't been able to turn a porcupine into a pincushion, perform a decent Cheering Charm, or brew an ingestible Swelling Potion. He never wanted to forget the times when he was just a normal child who believed in magic, but was faintly aware that it was beyond his reach.

Being from the muggle world wasn't something he was ashamed of; it was part of him, and he embraced it wholeheartedly.

"Are you sure you have all your books now, dear?" Alfie's mother, Beth Hayes, asked as he pulled his trunk down the stairs. She was a short, thin woman, with mousy brownish-blonde hair that was a little straggly, and a kind face. She looked rather funny next to Alfie's father, Professor Timothy Hayes, who was much taller and broader.

"Yes, mum," Alfie confirmed. "And all the potions ingredients, and my broomstick, and my clothes, and - "

"Your train ticket?"

Alfie's mouth dropped open, and his parents laughed.

"It's upstairs, I swear it is!" he said, dropping his trunk on the floor and darting back to his room. He had to rifle through a couple of drawers, but it didn't take him long to locate the glossy slip of paper that would take him from Oxford to London King's Cross, where he would then transfer to the Hogwarts Express.

When he descended the stairs again, his parents were waiting for him in the kitchen. His mother pushed a glass of milk towards him. "Here."

"Thanks," he said, taking it.

He expected his parents to say something - maybe ask him whether he was excited to go back to school, or whether Teddy and Ella would be reaching King's Cross at about the same time that he did - but was instead met with an odd silence.

"Is everything okay?"

His parents exchanged an uneasy look. "Alfie, darling," Mrs. Hayes began, "please make sure you stay safe."

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he hadn't been expecting this. He tilted his head and gave her a rather questioning look. "I always do, mum, you know that."

"I know … I know."

"Then why do you look so - " _frightened, anxious, fearful,_ "-concerned?"

There was another moment of silence, before his father spoke: "I've started getting your newspaper delivered."

Confusion. "I don't own a newspaper, dad, and Hogwarts doesn't have one."

His father looked rather exasperated, and Alfie felt a sudden, and yet familiar pang of inadequacy. "I _know_ that, Alfred. I mean the _Daily Prophet_ \- the wizard newspaper."

"Oh." Suddenly, he felt as if a lightbulb had been switched on. "Does this have to do with that girl? The one who went missing."

"Well...yes."

"But what does she have to do with me?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"She's...well, she's just like you, isn't she?"

"She's about four years younger."

"You know what your father means, Alfie," Mrs. Hayes said. "She's a wizard - "

"Witch."

"Right. She's a witch, with two … normal parents, and from what your father's been reading in the opinion columns, some people are worried that she might have been taken because...well, because of that. Apparently, there was a conflict some years ago, where wizards thought that people like you shouldn't be allowed into the magical world."

Alfie knew all about the Second Wizarding War - it was impossible not to, with a best friend like Teddy Lupin, whose life had been so profoundly affected by the event. He hadn't, however, shared his knowledge of the event with his parents, who used to believe that the wizarding world was some kind of utopia, where conflicts rarely ever occurred, and when they did, were of a much smaller scale than muggle atrocities.

"Mum, no one knows _why_ that girl was taken," Alfie said. "It could've been because she was muggleborn, like me, but it's also equally likely that it could've been for some random reason - maybe she was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Maybe she wasn't even taken by a wizard - muggle kids get kidnapped all the time."

"I suppose."

"The wizarding world is no more dangerous than the muggle...our world. And I'll be safe at Hogwarts- surrounded by all those highly trained wizards, and everything. The castle has all sorts of protective enchantments. I'll be just fine."

"If you're certain."

" _Mum_ ," he said, forcefully. "I'll be fine. Please, don't worry."

"We're your parents, Alfie," Professor Hayes said, smiling ruefully at his son. "It's our job to worry."

"I wish you wouldn't," Alfie muttered under his breath, finishing his milk. "I'll be fine, I promise."

He hadn't thought about the missing girl since he had been in London; he'd never even considered the fact that she'd been kidnapped because she was a muggleborn. He'd encountered limited prejudice during his time at Hogwarts - very few individuals had made insensitive remarks about his parentage, but they'd been punished, and hadn't done it again, except for one particular repeat offender. Surely, amongst the wider wizarding population, attitudes against his kind had died out with the end of the war?

Still, he couldn't help but feel his stomach sink slightly more than usual as he walked out of his front door. Leaving home was always difficult, but this time, it felt even more so.

.oOo.

 _IV: The path taken five times (the day of)_

The Hogwarts Express was due to leave at eleven o'clock. Teddy Lupin, Ella Anderson and Alfie Hayes clambered onto it at exactly ten fifty-eight, after saying goodbye to their families (in Alfie and Teddy's case, at least, for Ella's parents never accompanied her to the platform).

Alfie went off to find Victoire Weasley, who Teddy had glimpsed through the window of the train, while Ella and Teddy went off to the Prefect carriage for their very first meeting. Teddy had to admit, although he desperately wanted to reunite with Victoire, he was rather excited about his very first Prefect meeting.

It wasn't, however, very exciting. They arrived a few moments late, and quickly slid into the last available seats, apologising profusely. Matilda Goshawk, Teddy's fellow Hufflepuff Prefect, had been kind enough to save him a place next to her. Ella sat next to Walter Hopkins, a muggleborn genius, who happened to be her fellow Ravenclaw Prefect.

The meeting was brief: Alfred Cattermole, Ravenclaw seventh-year and new Head Boy, passed around patrol schedules, and Bella Watson, Hufflepuff seventh-year and new Head Girl (and the object of Daisy Shipkins' hatred) gave them a quick pep-talk on what she expected from them as Prefects, and how she was sure they would serve as an excellent example to the rest of the Hogwarts students. During this, Teddy was almost sure he caught a glimpse of Daisy outside the carriage - he wouldn't, honestly, have been shocked if she'd tried to sneak into the meeting. In fact, he was more surprised that she hadn't tried anything.

They were dismissed ten minutes later, and before heading to find Alfie and Victoire Teddy took the opportunity to chat briefly to Matilda Goshawk. Out of all the Hufflepuff girls in his year, he liked her the most; although she was rather quiet and shy, she was also a genuinely nice person, who had been friends with Teddy from first-year. He was glad that she had been chosen as Prefect - he couldn't imagine having to work with Daisy Shipkins, or one of her minions.

Speaking of Daisy, Matilda seemed acutely aware that she was angry with her.

"Her letters recently have been cold," she confessed to Teddy and Ella as they left the carriage. "She hasn't said why, but I think it's because I got Prefect and she didn't- she thought she was going to, you know, it was all she could talk about last term. It must have come as a real shock when I got the badge and she didn't."

"Yes, she said something of the sort when we ran into her," Ella said offhandedly. Matilda's expression fell.

"You deserve it more than she does," Teddy told Matilda reassuringly, meaning every word (although he didn't want his words getting back to Daisy, because when she was angry, she could be downright nasty).

"Really? That's nice of you to say." She bit her lip, and pushed a lock of straggly, mousy-brown hair behind her ear. "I suppose I should go find her, though."

"Whatever for?"

"Oh… you know. Talk it over with her. Knowing Daisy, she'll be angry if I don't sit with her on the train, and … well, she is my friend. I'd quite like to make up with her. I suppose I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, definitely."

Matilda smiled nervously, and walked ahead of Ella and Teddy. Once she was out of earshot, Teddy said: "I don't know what she wants to waste her time on girls like Daisy Shipkins for."

"They're friends," Ella said, shrugging.

"You of all people know they are _not_ friends - you heard all the horrible things Daisy said about her at the Leaky Cauldron."

She sighed. "It's probably more complicated than that. You know the kind of hold Daisy has over the other Hufflepuff girls - maybe Matilda just doesn't want to be isolated."

"She could always hang out with us," Teddy pointed out.

The Ravenclaw gave him a funny look. "You're not very perceptive, are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that you don't have a very good understanding of social relations and dynamics."

"Gee, thanks."

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "Let's go find Vic and Alfie, shall we?"

"I still don't understand what you mean!"

"Never _mind_ ," the brunette repeated emphatically, and Teddy dropped it. He didn't think he was particularly dim - he was rather intelligent, actually, if his marks were anything to go by, but sometimes Ella operated on a completely different level, and got rather frustrated when others found themselves unable to follow her disjointed manner of thinking.

Still, his confusion evaporated the moment he found Alfie Hayes and Victoire Weasley.

"Vic!"

"Teddy!" The younger blonde jumped up eagerly from her seat as he entered that carriage and flung her arms around him. She had grown a little, Teddy noticed, although she wasn't quite as tall as him yet, and her hair seemed to have gotten longer and wavier. "Oh, it's so _good_ to see you! I've missed you so much! Oh, hello, Ella! Great to see you too!"

"Lovely to see you, Vic," Ella greeted the Gryffindor.

"How was France?" Teddy asked as he sat down next to Alfie.

Victoire made a face. "Boring. Absolutely awful."

"I've been to France," Ella commented, pulling out a newspaper from the satchel she was carrying.

"Where in France?"

"Paris."

"Ah, see, Paris is actually interesting. The French countryside, on the other hand, is not. It's just endless fields, and days spent doing nothing but making boring conversation with boring relatives who are interested in absolutely nothing but school, and ask the same irritating questions over and over again until you want to petrify yourself."

"Sounds awful." She unfolded the newspaper.

"It really was." Victoire shuddered. "I am never spending more than two weeks there again. It was so...isolating."

"I can imagine," Teddy said, thinking about his own boring summer.

"Speaking of being isolated, I heard something strange. My Aunt Gabrielle said something about - "

But before Teddy could find out what Victoire's Aunt Gabrielle had said, Ella exclaimed, "Well, _that's_ unusual."

Victoire did not look pleased at being interrupted. "As I was _saying_ -"

"What's unusual, Ella?" Alfie asked, unintentionally ignoring Victoire.

"The Ministry's closed."

"The Ministry's what?" Teddy asked, surprised. He wasn't aware that the Ministry could close- it was, after all, a government body. Surely it needed to be open every day for the wizarding world to keep functioning?

Alfie was clearly thinking the same thing. "It can close?"

"Apparently." Ella pushed her glasses up her nose and squinted at the newspaper. "It doesn't say why, though."

"Maybe it's got something to do with what I heard my Aunt Gabrielle say," Victoire said pointedly.

"Sorry, Vic," Teddy said, turning his attention back to the younger girl. "You were saying?"

"You were saying something?" Ella looked a little embarrassed. "I didn't hear."

"Yes, as a matter of fact I was. On my last night in France, my Aunt Gabrielle, who works in the French Ministry was saying that the British Ministry had received some kind of threats, and they thought it had to do with some disappearance of some girl, who was taken for reasons that apparently no one wanted to admit, and it was all very confusing, and I hope you can make more sense of it than I can."

"She was probably talking about Melissa Cooper," Ella said.

"Who?"

"Muggleborn girl, supposed to start at Hogwarts this year."

"Oh, that's horrible!"

"I didn't know the Ministry was receiving _threats_." Alfie's voice had a quiver of trepidation in it.

"Neither did I," Ella said, thoughtfully, "although they are a government body, so it wouldn't necessarily be surprising. And if they received threats, well, it could explain why it's closed to the public today."

Teddy dwelled on this for a moment, before realising something: "But Vic, didn't you leave France five days ago?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, why would the Ministry close _now_ if they received the threats five days ago."

Victoire opened her mouth, paused, and then conceded: "Good point."

"Thank you."

"So why is the Ministry closed then?" Alfie asked. "If it's on the front page of the Daily Prophet, it's obviously not an expected thing, and I'm going to assume that the Minister didn't just decide he wanted a holiday - although I'm sure that's entirely possible, I would hate to be Prime Minister or anything like that, because I'm sure they never get holidays, and what's the point of having all that money if you can't spend it on nice things like holidays, and -"

"You're rambling again," Ella told him matter-of-factly.

"Oops." Alfie covered his mouth with his hands. "Sorry."

"You know," Victoire said thoughtfully. "I know someone who might know why the Ministry's closed."

"Who?" Teddy asked. "Your parents? Uncle Harry?"

"No. Well, yes, but we can't exactly ask them, can we? And even if we do, they're not likely to tell us."

The metamorphmagus wrinkled his brow. "Then who're you thinking of?"

Victoire grinned. "Riley Carrow."

"Riley _Carrow_?" He wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"How many other Riley's do you know?"

"None, but how would _she_ know?"

 _She's a Carrow_ , he added silently in his head, and judging by the expression Ella - and even Alfie, who had come to understand the politics of the wizarding world over the last few years - was making, she was thinking exactly the same thing. The Carrows were not exactly the most popular of people, particularly within the spheres of the Ministry of Magic.

Or at least, so Teddy thought.

Victoire, however, seemed oblivious to this. "Trust me, she'll know." She paused briefly. "Where is Riley, anyway?"

.oOo.

 _V: About Riley (the day of, from an hour before to the present)_

She stood outside King's Cross Station, wanting nothing more than to stay in that very spot forever.

All around her, people were going about their business: getting on trains to go to obscure parts of the country that she'd never been to, nor, quite frankly, cared about, getting off trains to get to their lucrative city jobs, meeting family, saying goodbye to family. No one paid the small, skinny, green-eyed girl with the messy ponytail any attention. No one cared who she was, who she was related to, what her last name was, and she liked it this way.

She liked blending in, and at Hogwarts, she stood out.

"I don't want to go," she said staunchly to her mother, who walked up beside her, pushing a trolley carrying her owl and school trunk.

"Riley," the older woman said, sighing, "we've spoken about this."

"They'll stare. Everyone always does. Especially now."

"You can't let them get to you."

She ignored her. "You _read_ Mary Ryman's column in the Daily Prophet yesterday. She thinks anyone with death eater connections should be called in for questioning about Melissa Cooper."

"There's no proof-"

"There doesn't need to be!" Riley exclaimed, her eyes flaming. "There doesn't need to be any proof, mum, they'll all assume that I had something to do with it because I'm...I'm… "

"A Carrow," her mother said (un)helpfully.

Riley glared at her, but beneath her stony exterior was a deep-rooted fear. Softly, she said: "With my family history, I'm never blame-free. Every time something happens, every time someone gets hurt, or someone calls a muggleborn a you-know-what, then it's 'hey Carrow, look at what all your new death eater pals are doing', or 'hey Carrow, bet they're using your aunt and uncle as inspiration' or 'why don't you go and drown yourself Carrow because you're a death eater brat' or-"

"Riley." Her mother's expression had softened significantly. She knelt down next to Riley and stroked her dark brown hair, pushing it away from her face. "I know that we've got some… bad apples in our family. No one could've known your father's siblings would do such horrible things in the war. But that was wartime, and it was before you were born. Things have changed now. _We've_ changed."

"But everyone else doesn't know that."

"Then you mustn't care about what everyone else thinks. You must be brave."

 _Brave_. The word sent a mixture of (mostly negative) feelings through her. "I'm not a Gryffindor, mother," she said. "I wish I was-maybe then, things'd be different. But, no, I'm just a Slytherin. Just like every Carrow before me. Just like every other member of the _bloody_ -"

"Language!"

"-Sacred Twenty-Eight who went bad."

"We aren't all bad," her mother said. "And being a Slytherin does not make you weak. I did not bring you up to be weak. You are not weak."

Riley sighed, looking down at her feet. She knew she wasn't weak- there had to be a part of her that was strong, because for three years, she had put up with people's stares, their whispers, their fears, and somehow managed to keep her head held high. And now, she was going back for a fourth year that she knew would be no different - if anything, it would be worse.

 _Why did that muggleborn girl have to go missing?_ she thought, as she pushed her trolley through the wall between platforms nine and ten. Why did Mary Ryman have to write that awful column in the Daily Prophet about how all families of former death eaters should be taken in for questioning, because it was _somehow_ obvious that the girl must have been taken because of her blood status? Why, she thought, ignoring the stares and whispers as she climbed onto the train, did her classmates' parents have to read the Daily Prophet, instead of … oh, she didn't know, _Teen Witch_ or _The Quibbler_ or some other, more innocuous publication.

But there was nothing she could do to change it, and so she walked past the first carriage, keeping her head held high, trying her best to be brave.

"Hey Carrow, where've you been all summer?" came a male voice from inside.

 _Ignore him._

"Hey, Carrow. _Carrow_."

 _Don't let him get to you._

"You've been in hiding, haven't you? Planning nasty things with your nasty parents?"

 _Don't.'_

"So, tell me, Carrow, where've you got the muggleborn locked up, then?"

 _Shut up_ , she wanted to scream. _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

But she didn't. Instead, she gave the boy inside the carriage a haughty glare and sauntered past.

It was only once she was out of his sight that she headed straight to the bathroom, and locked herself in until she could work up the courage to face her friends.

What would they say? Victoire Weasley, who she considered her best friend, had never said anything about Riley's family, although Victoire's parents had been involved with the Order of the Phoenix, and the Weasley's had always been known as muggle-lovers (not that that was a _bad_ thing). Part of Riley knew that Victoire would not say anything about the missing muggleborn girl, but at the same time, she was afraid.

Victoire was all she really had, and she didn't want to lose her.

"Be brave," she whispered to herself.

And so, a few minutes before Victoire Weasley inquired as to where she could possibly be, Riley Carrow stood up, brushed herself off and left the bathroom, determined not to let her fears get to her.

Her timing really was impeccable.

.oOo.

 _VI: Back to the path_

"I don't know," Teddy shrugged, in response to Victoire's question. "You're the only one she talks to."

"Not true," Victoire said.

"Fairly true," Alfie said, casting an apologetic glance at Victoire. "She doesn't really talk to the rest of us unless you're around. I don't think she likes us much."

"Nonsense! She's just as fond of you as I am!"

Teddy sincerely doubted that this was true. Riley and Victoire had become fast friends in their first-year at Hogwarts, and spent almost all their time together, but the Slytherin girl didn't seem to enjoy spending time with Victoire's _other_ friends. He'd spent a very long time thinking that Riley was simply using Victoire, and being rather suspicious of her, but after what was now referred to as That Incident in First Year, he knew that her friendship was genuine.

That didn't mean he had to be overly fond of her, though. He always felt like there was more to her than she let on, and he didn't like the fact that he was unable to read her well.

"I don't think that's true," Ella mused. "It's not that she's not lovely, but-"

"Who's not lovely?"

"Riley!" Victoire jumped up from her seat and flung her arms around the Slytherin, standing by the entrance to the carriage. Riley laughed awkwardly and patted her on the back.

Teddy nodded. "Hello, Riley."

"Hi Teddy, Alfie, Ella," she said, gently prying Victoire off her, and sitting down by Ella. "Who's not lovely?"

"No one," Teddy said quickly.

"That's pessimistic."

He rolled his eyes in response.

"If you must know, it's Daisy Shipkins," Ella said, coming to his rescue. "She's being awfully mean to Matilda Goshawk."

"Who?"

"Daisy Shipkins."

"No, I know who Daisy Shipkins is - although I wish I didn't. Who's the other girl?"

"Matilda Goshawk? She's Michael Goshawk's twin."

"Michael Goshawk has a _twin_?"

Teddy felt a twinge of irritation: this (among others) was one of his problems with Riley. She didn't seem to care about anyone, or anything that had nothing to do with her.

"On another note," Victoire said eagerly, "we were just talking about you."

"Really? Whatever for?"

"I heard something about something and thought you might know something about it." She went on to tell Riley about what she'd overheard her Aunt Gabrielle say. Teddy didn't see the point; Riley wasn't going to know anything, regardless of what Victoire seemed to think. She was a _Carrow_ , and the Carrows were hardly popular in the Ministry, and she surely wouldn't have any idea about why the Ministry was closed, and -

"Oh, yeah, I heard my parents talking about that this morning. They've got a really good reason for closing it."

"And you know this reason?" Teddy said, skeptically.

Riley picked up on his tone and gave him a look that he couldn't quite interpret (this was another one of his problems - he was very good at reading people, and yet Riley Carrow remained a complete mystery to him). "Yes, as a matter of fact. You're partially right, Victoire, it does have something to do with the missing girl. The Ministry got a new threat last night."

"Really?" Ella peered over the top of her glasses at Riley, suddenly very interested. "Last _night_? But they only check the mail in the morning, after the Ministry's open, so that can't have been the reason."

"Yeah, but- " she paused for dramatic effect "- this didn't come via mail. It was carved into the wall."

This proclamation was met, unsurprisingly, with a great deal of shock in the carriage. Teddy, Ella, Alfie and Victoire all began speaking at once.

"The wall?"

"Who did it?"

"The _wall_?"

"Why the wall?"

"How should I know?" Riley said, shrugging irritably. "I just know that someone snuck in, knocked out the guard and carved a message saying that they had the girl, that she was alive, and that- "

"She's alive?" Alfie said, with great interest. "I didn't know she was alive."

"Were you hoping she was dead?"

"Way to be blunt about it," Teddy muttered.

"Oh, shut up, what kind of response did you expect? Now, would you people let me finish?"

"Yes, of course, Riley," Ella said, sagely.

Riley opened her mouth, and hesitated. "I've forgotten where I was."

"Melissa's alive."

"Right, yes, so the message said that the girl was alive and that she'd stay that way if the Ministry agreed to fulfil some demands. Only the Ministry hasn't actually received any demands yet. The message did say that there was more to come, though, and it was signed with the da- some symbol."

Teddy felt his heart sink slightly. "What symbol?"

She looked at him with a hint of trepidation. "You know what symbol."

"When you say signed - "

"It wasn't cast, no, it was just engraved into the wall, like the rest of the message."

"Am I missing something?" Alfie interjected, looking rather confused. "What symbol?"

"Nothing," Teddy said, shaking his head. Alfie looked rather hurt, but he didn't feel like talking, not now. It was all too much of a shock - he'd held out hope that Melissa Cooper hadn't been taken by wizards, but now the evidence very clearly pointed to the contrary. He wasn't sure he wanted to believe Riley's story "How do you know all of this?" he asked her.

"My parents were talking about it."

"Yeah, but how do your parents know?"

Riley shrugged, and when she spoke, Teddy picked up a twinge of defensiveness. "Purebloods know purebloods. Despite what you might think, there are a lot of us in the Ministry, and regardless of...previous affiliations, everyone is rather intricately connected, especially as there aren't a lot of us left."

 _Not a lot left walking free in society_ , at least, Teddy thought - there were probably quite a few purebloods serving time behind bars in Azkaban.

Victoire seemed to pick up on Teddy's thoughts, and the growing tension in the carriage, and was quick to intervene. "Let's talk about something else," she said loudly. "It's depressing talking about Melissa Cooper, and yeah, I feel bad for the girl, but it's not like we know her. We're about to start a new year at Hogwarts - let's at least get _excited_ about it!"

She elbowed Riley enthusiastically and gave everyone a massive thumbs up. Teddy and Alfie were the only ones who returned it; Ella and Riley rolled their eyes, but both girls had hints of smiles on their faces.

The train ride to Hogwarts was long, and eventually, the five students ran out of stories to tell one another about their summer holidays, especially since they were all under the impression that their respective holidays had been terribly boring. And so, once they ran out of things to talk about, they deferred humbly to perhaps the best method of passing time on trains: card games.

They were halfway through a game of Exploding Snap when Rosalind Kettleburn opened the door to their compartment, and cleared her throat.

No one noticed her for a good two minutes. Teddy hated to admit it, for it sounded awful, but Rosalind Kettleburn was one of those girls who no one ever really noticed. She was a pale, quiet third-year Gryffindor who was exceptionally...well, average. She was neither particularly tall, nor short, she had dull brown hair and a pimply face, but not pimply enough to draw attention, and she wore no make-up at all. She wasn't an excellent Quidditch player, nor was she good at academics: she was simply, unexceptionally normal.

It was Ella who finally noticed her, and stared at her a little blankly. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, sorry." Rosalind smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I just -"

"What do you want, Kettleburn?" Riley glared at the Gryffindor - she really had no patience, Teddy thought.

Rosalind glared at Riley. "I was wondering if I could ask _Victoire_ whether she's seen Leslie Stiles? I haven't been able to find her."

Leslie Stiles was also a third-year Gryffindor, and was Rosalind's best friend. A muggleborn with an aptitude for flying, Leslie was well-known among Hogwarts students of all houses and ages, as she'd famously snatched the snitch from right under the nose of the Ravenclaw Seeker, a seventh year who had been drafted by the Falmouth Falcons. She was everything her best friend wasn't: talented, fairly pretty for her age, and most of all, confident. It was her confidence that made her stand out in a crowd.

Victoire paused for a second, thinking, before shaking her head. "I haven't."

The rest of them shook their heads too; Teddy hadn't seen Leslie Stiles since the final Quidditch match of the season, where Gryffindor had beaten Hufflepuff.

Rosalind's face fell. "Oh, hippogriffs - where could she have gotten to?"

"When was the last time you saw her?" Ella asked.

"I haven't actually seen her," Rosalind admitted. "Amy Kyle saw her get on the train, but no one's seen her since."

At this, Riley snorted, and everyone turned to look at her, rather puzzled. "Sorry," she said, looking entirely unapologetic. "It's just - well, why are you even surprised, Rosalind?"

"What do you mean?" the other said hesitantly.

Riley rolled her eyes, a slightly malicious smile on her face. "Leslie Stiles is so dull that she could get lost up her own sleeve. It's no wonder you can't find her- she probably went to the loo and got lost on her way back."

There was a collective intake of breath.

"You...you…" stammered a very red Rosalind Kettleburn.

"What?" Riley said innocently. "It's true."

It was somewhat true, Teddy thought; Leslie Stiles was certainly not the sharpest knife on the block, and rumour had it that she was taking Remedial Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. But still, Riley didn't have to be mean about it.

"You're a…" Rosalind trailed off, as Riley raised an eyebrow.

"Go on, say it."

"A…"

"You don't have the guts, do you?"

"Okay, that's enough," Victoire cut in sharply. "Sorry, Rosalind, we haven't seen Leslie, maybe try another carriage?"

"I think I will," Rosalind said huffily. She straightened her back and walked out, and as she closed the door, Teddy could have sworn that she muttered 'Bitch' under her breath.

"You don't need to be so mean to everyone, you know," Victoire told Riley.

Riley shrugged. "Rosalind Kettleburn should have thought before she called me a heartless death eater baby at the beginning of last year. Leslie Stiles, too."

 _Oh._

Although Teddy still stood by his belief that Riley had no need to act so harshly towards the Gryffindor, he suddenly found himself feeling rather bad for her.

"Let's change the subject!" Alfie said, a hint of pleading in his voice. "Does anyone know anything about the new Potions master? I hope it isn't anyone scary - I don't want to get nervous and drop even more things into my cauldron."

"What, like in your exam?" Teddy teased.

"What happened?" Victoire asked.

"He dropped beetlejuice into his Wit-Sharpening Potion," Ella said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "It turned bright red, and began to smoke and splutter. A bit hit Walter Hopkins in the eye and it had pretty much the same effect as a Confundus Charm."

"Isn't a Wit-Sharpening Potion supposed to reverse the Confundus Charm."

"Exactly."

"And you passed, Alfie?"

Alfie turned pink. "I got a P on the exam, but scraped an A overall thanks to coursework."

"Only by a point," Ella pointed out.

"We don't speak of that."

.oOo.

 _VII: Indigestion_

Hogwarts was one of those places where any young wizard or witch instantly felt at home. There was something about the castle that drew people in: perhaps it was the history and the the great minds that had studied within these very walls, perhaps it was the allure of the knowledge itself, perhaps it was the many secrets that the castle held. Teddy loved Hogwarts for all of these reasons and more: the traditions, the adventures, and most of all, his friends.

It felt wonderful to be entering the Great Hall again, to see it bustling with students. It felt wonderful to sit down at the Hufflepuff table and be surrounded by eager, friendly students wearing yellow and black ties. He and Alfie bade goodbye to Ella, Victoire and Riley, who dispersed to sit at their respective house tables.

Teddy and Alfie slid into their seats at the long table, and exchanged greetings with their housemates. Giovanna Downing, a Hufflepuff girl in their year, slid down into a seat opposite Teddy and smiled at him. "Had a good summer then, Teddy?"

Giovanna Downing was part of Daisy's gaggle of girls, and although Teddy knew her in passing, he hadn't spoken much to her before. Still, they exchanged a few perfunctory comments about their holidays, before Daisy Shipkins herself decided to grace them with her presence.

"Hello, darlings,' she said, flipping her long ginger hair over her shoulder as she pulled out a chair and sat down next to Giovanna. Teddy inwardly groaned - he didn't want to have to endure Daisy's endless chatter all through the feast. "Have you seen our new Head Girl yet?"

"Oh, yes," Morna Clemmons, who was sitting to the other side of Giovanna, tittered.

"What's happened to Bella?" Alfie said.

"Oh, nothing." Daisy waved her hand dismissively. "It's just...well, she looks like an utter disgrace. Her skirt is clearly in flagrant violation of the Hogwarts rules - it's much more than three inches above the knee."

"She might have just grown this summer!" Alfie protested.

Daisy shook her head, disgustedly. "Of course you'd stand up for her, Alfie, you're a boy. I suppose you don't care how long Bella's skirt is. In fact, I suppose you'd rather it was higher, wouldn't you?"

"Leave him alone, Daisy," Teddy snapped. Alfie had turned bright red; of all the people in Hufflepuff, Alfie was perhaps the most innocent. Not that it was a bad thing; it was one of the things Teddy liked the most about him.

Daisy held up her hands in mock defeat. "Sozzles."

"Sozzles?"

"Ooh, please don't say sozzles, Daisy, it sounds awful," Morna chipped in.

"I'll say what I want to, Morna," she snapped in reply, although Teddy noticed a slight flush appear on her cheeks as she sulkily sunk back into her chair. P _oor Daisy Shipkins,_ he thought. She just tried too hard.

And yet, despite this flaw, she was still very much in control of the Hufflepuff fifth-year girls, as evidenced a moment later, when Matilda Goshawk appeared at the table. She looked up and down the section where Teddy, Alfie, Daisy, Giovanna and Morna were, rather bewildered.

"Yes?" Daisy said sharply. "Can I help you?"

"I, er, was just wondering if there were any seats here," the Hufflepuff Prefect said meekly, tucking a strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear.

"Not for you, there aren't." Daisy smiled nastily at her. "Why don't you go try sitting with the Slag Squad?"

"The Slag Squad?"

Daisy jerked her head in Bella Watson's direction.

"Oi!" Alfie exclaimed. "That's really rude of you, Daisy."

"This doesn't concern you, Hayes."

"You're insulting my teammate."

" _Former_ teammate, you have no idea whether she'll make the team this year."

"Of course she will, she's the best Seeker Hufflepuff's got! And she's a good Head Girl too, regardless of what you say. You're just jealous."

"I am _not_ jealous!" Daisy practically screamed, attracting attention from most of the Hufflepuff's, including the aforementioned Head Girl, who had stopped chatting with her friends, and was watching Daisy rather worriedly. "Especially not of _her_."

"Excuse me." Bella Watson had approached them and was looking Daisy rather sternly. "Is everything fine?"

Daisy glared at her. "Just peachy, Watson."

If Bella was averse to Daisy's tone, she didn't show it. "Oh good, I was worried."

"Why would you be?"

"Well, I'm sure you don't want Hufflepuff to lose any points before the year even starts - I mean, _I_ certainly don't; I think it's important that we try our best to win the Cup this year. You're Laura Shipkins' sister, aren't you?"

"Why do you care?" Daisy said, huffily.

"Well, then you certainly won't want to lose any points - wouldn't your sister like to win the Cup, considering that it's her last year?"

"I suppose so."

"Good, then you understand." She flashed her a winning smile, before turning her attention to Matilda. "Nice badge, Goshawk," she said, grinning at her. Matilda blushed.

"She's so wonderful," Alfie said, as Bella walked back to her seat. "Isn't she, Teddy? Isn't she just the most perfect Head Girl?"

Teddy rolled his eyes fondly at Alfie. "Mate, I thought we agreed that -"

"-I know I said that I'd get over my crush on her, but it's _hard_." He sighed dramatically. "She's so wonderful."

"You said that already. You should watch out, you know, we don't need Daisy getting even more angry at us before the term even starts."

"I don't care."

While Alfie was busy making heart-eyes at the tall, blonde Head Girl, Teddy noticed Matilda Goshawk drifting uncomfortably at a short distance away from Daisy. She looked lost, lonely, and quite frankly, rather hurt. Teddy's heart went out to her, and he felt a little angry. Her friends should be happy for her - being a Prefect was a big deal, and she didn't have anyone to celebrate it with.

He turned to Jonathan Trigg, one of his roommates who had sat down beside him and asked him if he could move up a couple of seats. When Jonathan obliged, Teddy called out: "Hey Matilda! There's a seat here!"

Alfie looked at him incredulously. "So much for staying on Daisy's good side."

"I think I care about Matilda more than Daisy," Teddy admitted.

"Good point."

The brunette looked immensely grateful, and smiled as she came around the table and slid into the seat next to Teddy - just in time, too, for a moment later, Professor Flitwick entered the Great Hall, the new first years trailing behind him, wide-eyed and terrified.

"I swear they get smaller every year," he muttered to Alfie, who nodded in agreement.

The Sorting was short and sweet: the Hat was brought out, it sang a song much like the other four it had come up with while Teddy was at Hogwarts, and then, one by one, each student became a member of one of the four Hogwarts houses. Teddy applauded the new Hufflepuffs especially loudly: although they were four years younger than him, he was quite excited to get to know them, and take care of them, in his role as Prefect.

Professor McGonagall delivered her yearly speech, imparting wisdom, inspiration, and - most importantly - the Hogwarts rules. Although Teddy had heard variants of the speech numerous times now, he still listened closely: Professor McGonagall was quite an awe-inspiring woman, and he admired her greatly, even if he was a teensy bit scared of her. Most students listened intently, although some did seem rather distracted; everyone, however, became very interested when Professor McGonagall gestured to the staff table, and said:

"Before we eat, I would like to introduce our new member of faculty. As many of you know, Professor Slughorn retired last year after many, many years of service here at Hogwarts. We are delighted to announce the appointment of Professor Charles Smith."

A man to her right stood up; Teddy craned his neck so that he could see him. The new professor was rather tall and muscular, and he seemed to be rather young, probably in his mid-thirties. He had dark hair, and a rather mysterious aura around him that Teddy couldn't quite figure out.

"Ooh, he's gorgeous," he heard Daisy whisper to Morna, who giggled in response.

"I don't care how gorgeous he is, I just hope he's a good teacher," Alfie muttered.

"I'm honoured to be here," Professor Smith said, his voice deep and regal. "I look forward to meeting and interacting with all of you over the next few weeks. I'm sure that we shall get on excellently."

"Oh, I do _hope_ so," Morna whispered, batting her eyelashes.

Many of the Hufflepuff girls spent most of the feast avidly discussing the looks of the Potions professor. Daisy decided she was going on a diet in order to impress him, and didn't touch the fabulous roast chicken, or the bread. Instead, she looked rather disapprovingly at Matilda, who was helping herself to third servings of everything.

"I missed this the most," Matilda said to Teddy and Alfie. "My mum tries to cook, but...well, she's not very good at it, and she's too busy at work for her to really make an effort." She blushed. "Don't tell her I said that."

As he'd never met Matilda's mother, Teddy thought that there was little chance of this occurring, but he promised to keep his lips zipped anyway.

He was reaching across to heap more roast potatoes onto his plate, when something caught his eye.

"What's _she_ doing?" Daisy said, rather loudly.

Rosalind Kettleburn had gotten up from the Gryffindor table and was hurrying up to the Head Table. There was something about the way she was walking - head down, body tense - that suggested nervousness, perhaps even fear. As she approached the teachers, many students watched her over their food; rarely did anyone get up from their House table during the Welcome Feast.

Rosalind spoke in a quiet, low voice to Professor McGonagall. Teddy watched the Headmistress's face carefully, but there was no obvious change in expression. Not that he really expected one - he didn't know Professor McGonagall awfully well, but she gave off the impression of being well-modulated, in control of her emotions.

The Headmistress stood up. She did not even need to clear her throat; all the students immediately quietened down. Rosalind shifted uncomfortably at her side.

"My apologies for interrupting your dinner, but I must ask - has anyone seen Leslie Stiles, third year Gryffindor?"

A murmur sprung up almost instantly.

"Leslie Stiles?"

"She's the Gryffindor Seeker, isn't she?

"Have you seen her?"

"Why would I have seen a third-year?"

"Was she in your carriage?"

"Silence!" Professor McGonagall commanded, and the hall fell silent once again. "Am I to take it, then, that no one has seen Leslie Stiles since Miss Kettleburn saw her board the Hogwarts Express?"

Teddy felt his heart sink slightly as the room remained silent. Alfie looked rather panicked.

"Where could she be?" he whispered. "You don't think…"

"No," Teddy said firmly, not wanting to jump to the worst-case scenario. "She's probably still on the train - she probably just fell asleep, or something."

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said. "Nothing to worry about - Miss Stiles has probably gotten lost. The Hogwarts grounds can be very confusing." She gave the students what Teddy thought was a rather forced smile. "Please, continue eating. But first - could the Head Boy and Girl approach the-"

She was interrupted by a very loud bang. Teddy swivelled around to see the doors of the Great Hall slam shut; a hunchbacked figure with a twisted face had entered the hall and was walking towards the front of the room, occasionally glaring at students.

"I hoped he'd quit," Alfie said, in a trembling voice.

"So did I," Matilda said quietly. "Mr. Knobbles isn't a very nice person, is he?"

Claude Knobbles was not a very popular figure amongst students - they had hoped, when old Filch had retired, that the new caretaker wouldn't be as bad as him. Unfortunately for them, Knobbles was not as bad as Filch - he was much worse. Teddy had had a detention with him last year, and he still shuddered at the memory; it wasn't that the punishment itself had been awful (although cleaning the trophy room without magic was never any fun), it was simply that the caretaker had an uncanny ability to make students feel uncomfortable, inadequate and quite frankly, scared in his presence.

But there was something different about Knobbles today, Teddy thought as he passed the Hufflepuff table. Usually, he roamed the halls as if he owned the castle, always on the lookout for someone breaking rules. Now, there was something different about him. It was almost as if he was scared.

"Headmistress McGonagall," the caretaker said, in his wheezy, scratchy voice. "There's something that you should see."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys so much for the wonderful, wonderful reviews (and faves and follows)! You never fail to make my day! Also, shoutout to my wonderful, _wonderful_ beta brianna-xox, for making my writing so much better. This story would be nothing without you!

Quick reply to anonymous reviewer H.M.S.: thank you so much! Unfortunately, there is no way that I can continue Skeletons, but any plotlines that I was really excited about from second/third/fourth year have been shifted to fifth year, and if you want to know which ones, you can message me on my Tumblr (sincerelynymph) for more information!)

If you liked/hated/were mildly indifferent towards this chapter, leave a review! I love hearing what you guys think! As usual, update next Wednesday. See you all then!


	4. Chapter 4: Falling into the Unknown

**Chapter Four: Falling into the Unknown**

 _I: Much ado about something_

The Hufflepuff common room was always a hub of activity. It was one of those places where there was always _something_ going on: homework clubs, games of chess, updates on the Quidditch team… regardless of the time or the day, any Hufflepuff could simply walk in and instantly become involved in doing something or the other. It was one of the things Teddy loved about the house: it was impossible, as a Hufflepuff, to ever truly feel alone.

That night, however, it was oddly quiet. Most house members were gathered in the room, lounging on the sofas, or huddled by the fire, but barely anyone was talking and Teddy could sense the tension in the air acutely. Something was wrong - they all knew something was wrong, and yet, no one wanted to talk about it, at least not any more.

So, instead, they waited.

Professor McGonagall had left the feast with Knobbles and Professor Flitwick, yet only she had returned half an hour later, her brow creased. At the conclusion of the evening, the Prefects were instructed to take the first-years directly back to their common rooms, the students were told to go directly to their dormitories, and the Head Boy and Head Girl were told to meet in the Headmistress' Office. As everyone filed out of the hall, there was a distinct sense of mystery: something was up, and no one knew what it was.

And no one liked not knowing what it was.

Teddy and Matilda had given the first-years the standard briefing on Hufflepuff to the best of their ability before sending them up to the dorms, hoping that they wouldn't catch on to the fact that something was wrong. This was, on reflection, a bit optimistic: some of the eleven-year-olds were rather perceptive, although most were simply very tired and just wanted to go to bed after what had been a long and rather exciting day.

It had been over an hour now since everyone had returned to the common room, and the chatter about what Knobbles could have possibly wanted had long since died down. Every now and then, someone posed a theory, only to have it quickly shot down.

"Maybe something's escaped from the Forbidden Forest?" Morna Clemmons suggested.

"Don't be thick, Morna," Daisy snapped. "McGonagall would've called Hagrid, wouldn't she? He's the Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Oh."

"I wish that Bella Watson would hurry up," the ginger grumbled, checking her watch for what must have been the millionth time. "The sooner she gets back, the sooner we all find out what's going on, and the sooner we can all go to bed."

"No one's stopping her from going to bed," Alfie mumbled to Teddy who nodded in assent. "Plus, we don't even know if Bella's going to tell us anything."

"I hope she does," Teddy said, stifling a yawn. He was the kind of person who didn't like not knowing things, and the anticipation was absolutely killing him. It would be quite a let down to have waited for an hour, only to find out that Bella Watson had been sworn to secrecy.

He didn't, however, have to wait much longer, for barely a few minutes had passed when a pitter-patter of footsteps from the entrance tunnel became audible and Bella Watson appeared in the common room. The first thing Teddy noticed was how exhausted she looked: her skin was flushed, and she seemed as if she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

If anyone else noticed the same, however, their curiosity triumphed over empathy. Immediately, a gaggle of students ran up to the Head Girl, desperately begging for information.

"Bella, you've got to tell us what's going on!"

"Bella, why did Professor McGonagall want to see you and Cattermole?"

"What did Knobbles want?"

"Bella!"

" _Guys_!" Bella shouted. Everyone sobered immediately. "Please. I'm sorry to shout, but give me a chance."

"Would you like some water?" a meek looking third year girl held out a glass of water to the tired blonde, who accepted it gratefully.

"You're a darling, Alyssa."

The girl blushed.

"Isn't she so _nice_?" Alfie sighed.

"Alyssa?" Teddy asked, teasingly.

"No! Well, yes, I'm sure, I've never properly spoken to her, except for that time I accidentally spilled orange juice on her Herbology homework. Bella."

"Yes, Alfie, she's very lovely," Teddy said, a little wearily.

" _Isn't_ she?"

"So, what happened, Bella?" Matilda Goshawk asked quietly. "Assuming you can tell us, of course."

"I…" Bella seemed to be acutely aware of all of the hopeful faces staring up at her. "I'm really sorry, you guys, but McGonagall made me swear not to -"

She was interrupted by a large number of people explaining "Oh come on!" and "You aren't going to listen to McGonagall, are you?"

"Guys, please. I can't tell you anything, McGonagall doesn't want you to know just yet and quite frankly, she's right."

"Does it have something to do with Leslie Stiles?" the third-year girl, Alyssa, asked quietly. "She's my friend, I'm worried about her."

Bella's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Alyssa, but I can't tell you anything. You'll all find out soon enough, I promise, but this one's up to McGonagall."

"Yeah, right."

Teddy turned around to see a very superior-looking Laura Shipkins standing in the middle of the common room, her hands on her hips. Laura, like her younger sister, had an intense hatred of Bella for reasons that everyone attributed to nothing but pure jealousy. Over the years, Laura had had to deal with Bella beating her out for anything and everything. Bella was the seeker for the Quidditch team, Laura tried out, but was continually rejected. Bella got ten O.W.L.s, Laura had to settle for nine. Bella had had six boyfriends, Laura had had none. And now, Bella was Head Girl, and Laura wasn't even a Prefect.

As far as most of Hufflepuff house was concerned, this was all completely understandable; Bella simply worked harder and was more talented than Laura.

In Laura's eyes, this was all completely and totally unfair, and Bella Watson was a sneaky, manipulative little slag who had somehow put a spell on everyone that only she, Laura, was immune to.

Bella sighed. "Laura, it's the truth, I'm-"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it is." She laughed and flipped her long ginger hair over her shoulder. Daisy watched her sister admiringly; Teddy and Alfie suppressed their groans of disgust. "But you have an obligation, as a member of this house, to tell us what you know."

At this, Bella snorted. "Really? And where in the school's constitution is it stated that the Head Girl should disobey the Headmistress' orders because her house demands it?"

"It's for the good of the house!" Laura exclaimed.

"How can you say that when you don't even know what's going on?"

"You're right," Laura said triumphantly. "I don't. No one does, except you, and Cattermole, and I bet you he's in the Ravenclaw common room right now telling all of those little bookworms about what McGonagall said."

"He is not."

"How can you say that when you don't even know what's going on?" Laura mimicked cruelly. "Or do you have eyes in the back of your head?"

"Alfred wouldn't."

"How are you so certain? Are you sleeping with him too?"

There was a collective intake of breath. Alfie turned a bright shade of red, and looked as if he was desperate to speak up, but Teddy grabbed his arm to stop him. It was one thing to go up against Daisy Shipkins, who, as spiteful and idiotic as she might be, was nothing compared to her sister. Laura was manipulative, and cold, and he didn't like to think about what she would do to a person once she decided she didn't like them.

"I'll thank you to leave my private life out of this," Bella said, coldly. Teddy didn't fail to note that she didn't actually confirm, nor deny her relationship with Cattermole.

Laura shrugged, as if it didn't really bother her. "Fine. But you're just not telling us because you _like_ knowing something the rest of us don't. You _like_ having the power; it's gone to your head. If I was Head Girl, I would've told everyone what was going on. You're a disloyal, _slut_ of a Hufflepuff."

Alfie couldn't stop himself. "Hey!" he exclaimed.

Everyone turned to face him, and Teddy felt himself turning rather red with embarrassment. "You _idiot_ ," he whispered. "You've done it now."

Laura regarded him with icy coolness. "Did you say something, Hayes?"

Alfie froze; there was something about Laura's stare that had that effect. Even Teddy was rather frightened by those piercing green eyes. "Er...n-no," he managed to stammer. "Teddy, um, stood on my toe. Sorry. Please continue."

"I think I'm done here," Laura said, turning back to Bella. "See you in our dormitory, slag. That is if you even come back tonight."

She spun on her heel and stalked off towards her room, many of the seventh-year girls, plus Daisy, following.

Bella sighed. "You should all go to bed," she said, wearily. "It's getting late and I can't tell you anything, I'm sorry."

Many of the younger students looked at one another and, realising that there was no point in staying up, trooped off to bed. Teddy, too, turned to leave, but Alfie hesitated.

"Teddy…"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

Teddy sighed and faced his best friend. "You want to go and talk to Bella because you think she might tell us about what happened." When he received no response, he raised his eyebrow and innocently asked: "No?"

Alfie gave him a sheepish smile. "Yes."

Teddy knew Alfie and Bella were teammates, but he thought that she was rather unlikely tell them anything, no matter what. "Yeah, I don't think - "

"We won't know until we try though, will we?" Alfie continued, not paying Teddy much attention.

"Who's we?" Teddy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on, Teddy, you're not going to make me do this alone, are you?" he turned on him with such a pleading expression that Teddy couldn't refuse (actually, come to think of it, Teddy Lupin had trouble saying 'no' to anyone, particularly his best friends - a trait that was perhaps rather endearing, but not necessarily adaptive).

"Fine," he said. "But we're not going to pester her. We ask, and then leave her alone."

Alfie led the way over to Bella, although he kept checking to make sure that Teddy was behind him, and hadn't run off to their dormitory. Teddy wasn't sure whether to be offended or amused by his friend's lack of trust, but eventually decided on the latter; Alfie didn't have a malicious bone in his body.

The Head Girl looked up when she saw them approaching, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ear. She smiled. "Hey, Alfie, Teddy. Congratulations on Prefect, Teddy, I forgot to say on the train - really proud of you."

"Thanks, Bella." Teddy smiled. "Congrats on Head Girl - you definitely deserve it."

"I hope this doesn't mean that you'll be too busy to be seeker this year," Alfie blurted.

Bella laughed, and shook her head. "Oh no, I'll definitely be trying out again - I love Quidditch too much to give it up."

"And Quidditch loves you!"

Both Teddy and Bella gave Alfie a funny look, and he turned rather red. "I mean...er… the team loves you, you know, because you're such a good seeker and, um, I can't really imagine the team without you, you know, I'm going to be trying out again, and I'd want you as the seeker to my chaser if I make it on and er, I'm just going to shut up now."

Bella laughed. "You're sweet, Alfie."

He turned an even deeper shade of red and muttered something incomprehensible.

"So...did McGonagall really tell you what the whole situation with Knobbles was about?" Teddy said tentatively.

Bella sighed. "She did. I wish she didn't, in a way, because then I wouldn't have to keep it from everyone - I really do want to tell you guys, despite what Laura Shipkins insinuated. I just...can't. If McGonagall found out," she drew a finger across her throat, "she wouldn't be happy and I could potentially lose my position."

"Is it...serious?" Alfie managed.

The blonde bit her lip, debating whether she should say anything. The boys waited, silently, until eventually she nodded. "It is. Which is why it's up to the school when they want to tell everyone, although I'm sure that'll be soon."

"We're not in any danger, are we?"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Bella smiled at them. "Don't you two worry - everything will be fine in no time at all. You should both just go to bed - you've had a long day today, and tomorrow will be even longer."

Recognising that they weren't going to get much more out of Bella, the boys returned to their dormitory. Alfie promptly fell asleep, but Teddy lay awake in the darkness for much longer, replaying the day's events over and over in his head. It was all so...strange - the Ministry closing, the mark the carved message was signed with, Leslie Stiles missing, Knobbles bursting into the Great Hall - it all felt like too much.

He had a horrible feeling that it all meant _something_ \- and something bad at that. For no matter how many times he ran over the conversation in his head, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself that he was imagining or overthinking things, he couldn't shake the feeling that Bella Watson's smile when she had told them that they weren't in danger had been rather forced.

.oOo.

 _II. Skulls and snakes_

Teddy woke up the next morning to the loud, shrill sound of Alfie's godforsaken muggle alarm clock. He didn't know how many times he and his other roommates had begged Alfie not to bring the little red menace to school, but according to the muggleborn, nothing else was able to wake him up. Alfie did, after all, sleep like a log.

They showered, dressed and left the Hufflepuff common room for breakfast. Ella was waiting for them outside the Great Hall, her nose already buried in a book.

"How have you already been to the library?" Alfie gawked.

"Don't be silly, Alfie, the library isn't open yet," she said, slipping a bookmark between the pages, before snapping the book shut. "I brought this one with me from home."

"You put the rest of us to shame," Teddy told her lightly.

She blushed, and changed the subject. "Where do you want to sit, then? The Hufflepuff table doesn't look too crowded, I don't mind if we go there."

Although Teddy had heard stories of how, during his grandmother's days at Hogwarts, students were expected to sit with their houses at all times, he couldn't imagine being confined to a single table every single day of the year. Things had changed after the war - the school administration had decided that inter-house unity was integral to the social order being promoted, and hence, had abolished the rule that students had to sit at their house tables at meals, except for special occasions. The first-years even had a special table where they all sat together, regardless of house. Teddy, like many others, loved the rule - mealtimes were a great opportunity to catch up with all his friends.

Alfie and Teddy slid into empty seats next to each other, while Ella sat down next to Giovanna Downing, who was eating breakfast alone - Daisy and the rest of her crew were absent.

"Have you heard, then?" Giovanna said, by way of greeting.

"Heard what?" Teddy asked, looking at both Alfie and Ella who mirrored his puzzled expression.

"Oh, come on, you've got to have heard!"

"Did Daisy dye her hair blonde or something?" Ella commented mildly. Teddy knew she didn't think much of Giovanna, who she saw as just another brainless member of Daisy's squad.

"No." Giovanna wrinkled her nose. "Merlin, she'd look awful as a blonde, what with all those freckles. No, no, it's something much bigger."

"Well, don't keep us waiting."

"I know what happened last night."

Alfie almost spit out his orange juice. "You what?"

"How?" Teddy asked.

Giovanna shrugged. "I heard from Daisy, who heard from Laura, who heard from Randy Macklemore from Slytherin, who heard from - oh, I don't know, but the point is, everyone knows and Knobbles is stopping anyone trying to get to the gates from going to the gates so it must be true and -"

"The gates?"

"Oh!" She blushed. "I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself."

"I'm so confused," Alfie muttered.

Giovanna cleared her throat, and began again, more slowly this time. "Apparently, there was a dark mark painted onto the gates. Knobbles found it last night while we were all at the feast, and...well… you know the rest."

There was silence.

Teddy stared at Giovanna; he almost hoped that it was some stupid rumour that Daisy had made up, but somehow he just knew that it wasn't.

What did this all mean? First the mark appeared at the Ministry, and now on the Hogwarts gates… there was only one connection that Teddy could think of.

"Leslie Stiles?" he asked, without having to elaborate.

Giovanna shook her head. "No sign of her."

"Oh my god," Ella whispered. "This isn't good, is it?"

"Wait." Alfie held up a hand and the others looked at him. "Sorry, I'm missing something here - what's the dark mark?"

"It's the mark that Voldemort used to use when he or his followers did something bad. It was their symbol, of sorts," Ella explained.

"Hang on," Alfie looked at Teddy, who was biting his lip. "I thought… I thought all the death eaters were in prison."

"They are - well, most of them, anyway," Teddy said, a little bitterly. "But that doesn't mean there aren't people out there who sympathise with him, and now it looks as if they've taken things a step further."

No one knew how to reply to this, so they simply served themselves in silence. Teddy didn't know how to feel - he knew that there were people out there who believed in Voldemort's manifesto, people who thought that muggleborns and blood traitors had no place in the wizarding world, but at the same time, he'd thought that it was mostly a whole lot of talk. He'd thought that Melissa Cooper's kidnapping had been an isolated incident, but now that Leslie Stiles appeared to have disappeared too, and the mark had been associated with both of them… it was all too much. He had a horrible feeling in his stomach, and cast a worried glance over at Alfie who was, uncharacteristically, fiddling with his toast.

"Not too chipper, then, are we?" Riley Carrow broke the silence, sliding down into a seat next to Giovanna. Victoire came around the table and sat next to Teddy.

"You've heard then?" she said, softly. "About Leslie?"

"They still haven't found her?"

She shook her head, sadly. "No. Rosalind Kettleburn was pacing up and down the common room all of last night, and she kept leaving to try and pester McGonagall."

"Wow. How'd that go down?"

She shrugged. "McGonagall threatened to lock her in her room. She got the message. Still, it must be awful for her."

"It's awful for all of us," Ella said, shaking her head. "I can't believe it - the dark mark...Hogwarts…it feels too close to home."

"The _dark mark_?"

Teddy opened his mouth to explain what was going on, when a large number of students suddenly entered the hall. More continued to pour in, until it was full; Teddy could have sworn the entire school was present, but he didn't know why.

"What's going on?" he whispered to Victoire, who shrugged.

"Who knows? Now will someone please tell me about this damned mark?"

She did find out rather quickly, but alas, not from the source she expected. Headmistress McGonagall entered the Great Hall, and strode to the front, her emerald green robes swishing behind her. She stood on a small elevated platform and looked down upon her students, pushing her small pair of spectacles up her nose. A hush immediately fell over the room.

"Thank you all for assembling so quickly," she began. "I wish that I could be presenting you with some more cheerful news this morning, but unfortunately, I cannot. Leslie Stiles has not yet been found. A thorough search of the Hogwarts grounds has been conducted, and we are continuing to search both the school, the forest, and the nearby area, including the village of Hogsmeade."

"Yeah, but if she disappeared off the train, that's not going to do much good, is it?" Ella pointed out. Teddy shushed her.

"Until then, we must please ask that you all remain calm. We have the utmost faith that Leslie Stiles will be found safely." She paused, and cleared her throat. "And now, to address a rumour that has reached my ears: I do not know how many of you found out, but last night, Caretaker Knobbles discovered a dark mark painted onto the Hogwarts gates."

There was a collective intake of breath; Victoire covered her mouth with her hands and let out a tiny squeaking sound. Teddy felt a shiver run through him; so it was undeniably true, then.

"We are looking into who might have done this, and the perpetrator will be caught, and punished - the public display of the dark mark is an imprisonable offence, and we are taking this matter very seriously. But, once again, I must remind you to stay calm; you are in no danger. Hogwarts is well-protected, and there is no direct link between Miss Stiles' disappearance and the appearance of this mark. However, please do ensure that you remain vigilant; report any suspicious activity to a member of the faculty, and do not leave your dormitories after curfew. I trust that the Prefects and our new Head Boy and Girl will aid the school in ensuring that each and every member of the student body remains safe. Thank you."

"Yeah, right," Victoire mumbled as soon as McGonagall had left. "Of course there's a link - first the mark appears at the Ministry, then at Hogwarts, after the disappearance of two muggleborns. How dumb does McGonagall think we are?"

"Not everyone knows about the Ministry," Teddy reminded her. Giovanna, for one, was looking at Victoire very curiously, and Teddy was sure that he was going to have to explain things to her on the way to his next class.

"So what does this mean?" Alfie asked. "Are death eaters behind the kidnappings then? Are they going after muggleborns?"

He didn't get a response. Instead, someone shouted, "Hey Carrow! Sounds like McGonagall didn't like your artwork on the gates."

Teddy suddenly remembered that Riley, who had been very quiet, was present; she had sunk into her chair, as if trying to pretend that she didn't exist, and was staring straight ahead.

"Shut up!" Victoire yelled angrily.

"It's fine," Riley muttered. "I...I think I'm going to go." She got up from the table, slinging her battered brown leather satchel over her shoulder.

"Riley, don't let them get to you," Victoire said, a hint of pleading in her voice. "They're idiots, everyone knows you had nothing to -"

"It's fine," the Slytherin repeated. "I'm not really hungry anyway. And I've got reading to do."

Victoire bit her lip but recognised defeat; as she watched her friend leave the table, she whispered: "Should I go after her?"

"Give her time alone," Ella suggested. "I think she might need it."

"But it's not her-"

"We know," Teddy said. "We know. Just give her time."

"And hey, you never know - she might actually have reading to do!" Alfie exclaimed, in an effort to be chirpy and lighten the situation.

"It's the first day of school."

"Yeah, but it's not like that stops Ella."

Ella tried to reach over the table to hit him, but couldn't reach. "Shut up!" she exclaimed. "Books are wonderful!"

"That's what you think."

And just like that, everything was back to normal.

On the surface, at least.

.oOo.

 _III: The potions professor_

Their last lesson before lunch was Potions.

Teddy had never seen the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws quite so excited for a lesson before; everyone was incredibly curious as to what the new professor would be like. Most people, Teddy included, had been rather fond of old Slughorn. There was a general hope that Professor Smith would fill the large footsteps that came before him.

And, of course, his looks didn't exactly hurt.

Teddy could have sworn that both Daisy Shipkins and Morna Clemmons had slathered on a few extra layers of make-up in between Transfiguration and Potions; even Becca Dillion, Ella's roommate, seemed to be wearing quite a bit of lipgloss.

"It's my lipgloss," Ella said grumpily as they entered the dungeons. "She borrowed it without telling me."

"That's not very nice of her," Teddy said.

Ella rolled her eyes. "She's Becca Dillion. Does she ever care about what other people think?"

Teddy couldn't say he knew Becca well enough to comment, so he stayed silent.

They sat down on either side of Alfie, who had rushed from Transfiguration to Potions so as to avoid being late; he'd wanted to make a good impression on the new professor, but for quite different reasons than the girls. Alfie, by his own admission, was not the best at potions. It only took one mistake for him to get incredibly flustered and start dropping things haphazardly into his cauldron. It was an absolute wonder that he hadn't blown up the potions classroom yet.

"I hope he's nice," Alfie said, as Teddy rifled in his bookbag, searching for his favourite quill.

"I'm sure he is," Ella said.

"You're just saying that because he's attractive."

"I am _not_."

"Oh right, sorry. Forgot you had a boyfriend now."

Ella blushed. "I do _not_ have a boyfriend."

"Oh yeah, how is dear old Leo?" Teddy asked cheekily, grinning at her.

"Shush, he might hear!" She glanced around the dungeon and, after ascertaining that Leonardo Torricelli was at the other end of the room, turned back to Teddy and Alfie. "If you must know, we've been in contact all through summer and we're going to be finishing off the Transfiguration project in the library at lunch."

"A date then, eh?" Teddy raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"It's not a date! We're meeting in the library."

"Which is a perfectly good place for a date!"

"Mate." Alfie gave Teddy a rather bewildered look. "No."

"It's a perfectly good place for a date if you're Ella," Teddy corrected. "Or Leonardo Torricelli. I guess. I don't actually know. Hm."

Ella opened her mouth to respond, but immediately fell silent; Professor Smith had entered.

He certainly had a commanding presence, Teddy thought, although he was commanding in a rather different manner than Professor McGonagall. McGonagall was poised, stern, and radiated authority; Professor Smith had an aura of mystery that drew people in, and yet as he smiled at the students in front of him, there was something about him that was distinctly approachable - friendly, almost.

Teddy, who was the kind of person who made up his mind about a person fairly quickly, decided that he liked him, and this was further confirmed when he began to speak.

"Good afternoon - it is afternoon, isn't it?" A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was. "As you may know, my name is Professor Smith, and I'll be taking over from Professor Slughorn - which does feel a little odd, considering that he taught me, back in my Hogwarts days. Great man, that Slughorn. But anyway - I do hope to get to know all of you over the course of this year. It's an important year, this one - as you already know, and will be constantly reminded about, you'll be sitting your Ordinary Wizarding Levels at the end of this year. I expect very much from my students, and have no doubt that all of you will, at the end of the year, get at least an E. But alas, it wouldn't be fair for me to demand such results without delivering myself. Therefore, I endeavour to teach you well; if you have any questions at any time, please do not hesitate to ask, and know that the door to my office is always open. Are there any questions?"

Silence. Everyone stared up at Smith, looking rather impressed.

"Good. Let's begin."

The lesson was engaging and fun; Teddy thought it was just as good as Professor Slughorn's old lectures, and when they began the practical section of the class, he felt as if he understood the theory behind the Strengthening Solution quite well.

"I wonder how he expects us to all get E's though," Ella said, as they crushed their salamander claws.

"He's got to be kidding himself he thinks I'm going to get an E," Alfie remarked mournfully. They'd only been working for ten minutes or so, but Alfie's potion was already a bright scarlet instead of the pale pink that it was supposed to be.

"Of course you can get an E!" Ella exclaimed. "You just need to have more confidence in yourself."

"Yeah," Alfie said, staring at his potion, which had begun to bubble rather specifically. "Confidence."

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Smith appeared suddenly. Alfie, startled at his sudden materialisation dropped his finely chopped lizard scales into his potion. It began to hiss rather maliciously.

"I'm sorry," Alfie said, looking quite panicked. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I-"

"No, no, don't worry!" the professor smiled at Alfie. "May I?" He gestured towards Alfie's cauldron, and the Hufflepuff took a step back.

"I just drop things in my potions a lot," Alfie explained, as Smith went about correcting his mistakes. "I'm really sorry, I -"

"Not to worry, Mr. - I'm sorry, Mr. what, exactly?"

"Hayes, sir."

"Hayes. Alfie Hayes?"

"Yes." He looked a bit startled. "How did you know my name?"

"I make it a point to know who is in my classes, Mr. Hayes." He finished what he was doing, and dusted his hands, turning around to smile at Alfie. "Now, that should have fixed it to a degree. You should be able to continue on from where you were without much trouble. Don't worry about dropping things, Mr. Hayes, we all make mistakes. Perhaps it can't be helped."

His eyes lingered on Alfie for a moment, before he turned his attention to Teddy and Ella, who introduced themselves. He seemed satisfied with their performance so far, and didn't spend long with them before moving onto the next table, where Daisy Shipkins lay in wait. As Teddy stirred his potion, he could hear her practically simpering.

"Oh Professor Smith, you're an absolute _angel_. I'd be quite lost without you."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Disgusting. She's disgusting."

"She's Daisy Shipkins," Teddy said. "What can you expect?"

"He's a nice guy, though, Smith," Alfie said, carefully adding the shredded Hippogriff muscle. "Slughorn never fixed my potions for me."

"I do wish he had told you what he was doing, though." Ella frowned. "I don't see how you could possibly learn otherwise."

Alfie shrugged. "He probably just thought it was too complex for me to grasp. I don't blame him, it probably was. I do suck at Potions."

And yet despite this proclamation, Alfie still managed to do fairly well at the end of it; his Strengthening Solution was given an A. Teddy and Ella both received E's, and Matilda Goshawk, much to her surprise, and Daisy's disgust, received an O. Smith praised her skillful brewing to great lengths, and she left the dungeon looking very red, but very chuffed.

Daisy Shipkins was not happy with this, and as Teddy passed her on his way out, he could hear her angrily talking to Morna Clemmons about how Matilda only got good marks in class because the professors liked her. "And, of course, it doesn't hurt that she's got that fancy last name," she sniffed.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right," she whispered to the boys. "Michael Goshawk's also got that fancy last name, and you don't see _him_ doing as well at Matilda, do you?"

Victoire was waiting just outside the dungeon. Teddy smiled at her, but she didn't reciprocate. Rather she looked intensely worried about something: her brow was furrowed, and she ran her tongue back and forth under her upper lip.

"What's up, Vic?" Teddy asked.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she began, "but Riley hasn't come to any classes today, and I'm worried about her."

"You don't think she's been kidnapped, do you?" Alfie asked worriedly.

Victoire shook her head. "Nah, she's Riley - I'd like to see someone try to kidnap her. I don't know, I just think something's up with her. You saw how she was at breakfast, after those horrible people said those mean things to her." She sighed. "This is all going to be really tough on her. I just hope she's okay."

.oOo.

 _IV. Cut to Riley_

"Hey Carrow." Hestia Witherspoon glanced at the small, dark-haired figure curled up on the emerald-green chair with a book. "You coming to lunch?"

Riley took a deep breath, and wrinkled her nose at Hestia. "Nah. Not hungry."

"Suit yourself." The Slytherin shrugged, and left the common room, followed by two other fifth-year Slytherin girls. Only Iris Fawley, an average looking redhead with freckles and muddy brown eyes, hesitated.

"You sure, Riles?" she asked tentatively.

Riley did not look up from her book.

"You've been in here all day."

Still nothing.

"Do you want me to bring something back for you?"

Seeing no other way to get rid of the girl, Riley nodded. "Yeah, I guess a sandwich would be nice."

Iris smiled and said, "I'll see you soon then," before skipping off to join the others, finally leaving Riley exactly how she wanted to be: alone.

See, Riley Carrow never really fancied herself as the kind of girl who liked to be alone. Ever since she was little, she had craved the company of other children her own age, because spending time with adults was boring: they didn't understand things in the same way she did, or like the same activities. All they seemed to do was sit around and talk all day about the most boring and inconsequential things.

Her dislike of lonesomeness was the reason she was in the Slytherin common room, instead of holing up in her dormitory. This way she was surrounded by people, even if those people (mostly) left her alone. There was something wonderful about being a Slytherin, she thought. They all seemed to instantly get what she was going through: no one had asked any questions, or even mentioned the kidnappings in front of her. Instead, they all simply swallowed her excuse for skiving classes without even a raised eyebrow.

If she'd gone to classes, she'd have had to deal with a whole day of people endlessly talking about the kidnappings, the dark mark - it would have all been too much to bear, especially once people remembered (did they ever forget?) her last name and her connection to the scary order that seemed to have revived itself.

Had it revived itself?

She wasn't sure.

There was evidently a direct connection between the kidnappers and the death eaters: it couldn't possibly be a coincidence that it had appeared in connection with both Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles, not when it so rarely appeared otherwise. But at the same time, it hadn't been cast in the sky, like her parents had told her it used to be.

The death eaters always marked their activities by sending it up into the sky, for everyone to see. Why hadn't they done the same here?

Riley wasn't sure, and it wasn't a question she was about to bring up in everyday conversation. No one would listen to her if she said anything - if she did, they'd probably take it as her trying to lead them down the wrong track.

After all, she thought bitterly, according to the great majority of Hogwarts students, she was nothing but a death eater baby.

.oOo.

 _V. Dating? Studying?_

Checking her reflection in a suit of armour was not the best course of action, but it was the only course of action available.

For one, Ella Anderson thought, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face, the curved surface distorted her features terribly. She was sure her nose wasn't that big, and her eyebrows couldn't possibly be thinner than the frames of her glasses. She cursed herself for not carrying around a compact mirror with her; perhaps Daisy Shipkins, who was always checking her make-up between classes actually had the right idea for once.

"Ella?"

She spun around too quickly. Her satchel hit the suit of armour, making a very loud clanging noise.

"Watch what yer doing, missy!" the suit exclaimed loudly, before stomping off, rather angrily - and noisily.

Ella cringed. "Sorry."

Leonardo Torricelli watched her with a degree of amusement. "Are you alright there?"

"Yeah," she said, wishing she had a remote that could control time so that she could rewind and redo the last few moments. "Yeah, I'm fine. Hi, Leo."

"Hi." He grinned, and gestured to the stairs leading up to the library. "Shall we?"

"Huh? Oh...oh yeah, yeah." She smiled at him, a little awkwardly, and leaped up the stairs to the library, hoping that her burning cheeks weren't overly evident. "Um, where do you want to sit?"

"Anywhere's fine."

"I, um, kind of like to sit here." She gestured towards a table right next to the window. "Do you mind?" He reassured her that they didn't, and she placed her bag on the wooden surface, opened it, and systematically extracted the long sheets of parchment that constituted their transfiguration project. Leonardo got out his section of the project and laid it out on the table next to Ella's.

"It looks great," he said, looking down at it. "Do you think we've covered everything?"

Even Ella - who was very rarely impressed - had to admit that it did look wonderful. Her essay perfectly complemented Leonardo's poster, and, glancing over his work, she could see that he too had done some extra reading that was sure to get them good marks. "I think we have," she whispered.

They were silent for a moment, and then Leonardo spoke again: "You know, Ella, I've really enjoyed working on this with you."

Her heart lifted slightly; she turned and smiled at him, and he smiled back. She couldn't help but think about how wonderful his smile was - it really lit up his face, and there was a light in his hazel eyes that was unlike anything she'd ever seen. "I've really enjoyed myself too," she said, meaning every word. "I, um, don't usually like working with other people, because, well, they're often quite useless at cooperating, and they're not nearly as good as they should be - Alfie Hayes and Teddy Lupin excepted, of course, we work well together - but um, yeah, I don't like working with anyone else, and when Professor Ellacott put us together, I thought it'd be awful, but it really wasn't and I-" she broke off when she noticed the funny look he was giving her. "I should stop talking now, shouldn't I?"

He laughed ( _Merlin_ , even his laugh was perfect). "No, don't worry! I completely understand! I'm glad that I was a suitable partner."

"So am I."

Silence, for a few moments. Ella felt like she should say something but she didn't know what. This, she thought, was one of her major problems: she never knew what to say, when. It was a result of spending so much time with Alfie and Teddy - they'd been her best friends since she was eleven and she was so comfortable with them that silence wasn't an issue. When it came to other people, however, silence was just...awkward, and she didn't know how to break it.

Thankfully, Leonardo broke it for her. "So."

"So."

"We should pair up together again," he said. "Sometime."

Ella smiled. "I'd like that."

Silence again. She began to wonder whether she should leave - the interaction didn't really seem to be going anywhere - when Leonardo said, "Ella."

"Hm?"

He looked slightly uncomfortable, and reached his hand up to ruffle his dark hair in what was quite an obvious attempt to appear casual. "So, there's a, um, Hogsmeade weekend coming up at the end of the month, and I've heard that there's a bookstore."

"At Hogsmeade? Yeah, Winklemeyer and Blotts, it's owned by the same guy who owns Flourish and Blotts. It was just 'Winklemeyer' until he bought it, but -"

"Not Winklemeyer and Blotts," Leonardo interrupted. "A new one. I, uh, don't know what it's called, but it's opening this month, and I was wondering if you'd like to go and check it out. With me. Next Hogsmeade weekend."

Ella's eyes widened. A _date_? Was Leonardo Torricelli asking her out on an actual date?

This did not happen to her! She did not just casually get asked on dates. Back when everyone started randomly asking everyone out in third-year, no one ever asked her out. And here Leonardo Torricelli was asking her if she wanted to go to a bookstore with him. Of course she wanted to go to a bookstore with him! She could think of nothing more exciting than going to a bookstore with him!

"I, um, think that'd be great," she managed, trying not to sound too eager.

"Great!" he grinned, excitedly. "Um, do you want to walk down together and everything?"

"Yeah," Ella said, before quickly adding, "that is, if that's cool with you."

"It's cool with me! Your friends won't mind?"

"Nah." She waved her hand dismissively - surely Alfie and Teddy would understand. She'd walked down to Hogsmeade with them so much that she was sure they could probably spare her this one time.

"Great!" he said again. "I guess it's a date then."

She suppressed a squeal. A _date_! She, Ella Anderson, had a _date_.

.oOo.

 _VI: The ministry's sleeve_

"I think I have a date with Leonardo Torricelli!"

"You what?" Teddy stared at Ella, who was clutching her Ravenclaw scarf to her mouth to hide her burgeoning grin.

"I said, I think I have a -"

"I know what you said," Teddy interrupted. "But how?"

"What do you mean how?"

"When?"

"Hogsmeade weekend."

"When did he ask?"

"Library."

"That's romantic," Alfie, who had been standing with Teddy near the entrance to the Great Hall when Ella had rushed up, said.

"What's not romantic about the library?"

"Everything!"

"Alfie!"

"What? It's true!"

"Guys, stop it." Teddy rolled his eyes. "That's great, Ella!"

"I mean, I don't know if it's a date," she said. "But he said it's a date, and I think that means it's a date, don't you?"

"Sounds like it."

"And he said he really enjoyed working with me, which means he must like me, right?"

"He must, or he wouldn't have asked you on a date," Alfie said.

"Yeah, but it _is_ a date, right?"

"I thought you just said it was a date?"

"But I'm not sure." Ella sighed. "I'm going to go ask Becca - she knows a fair bit about boys and their ways. I'll see you guys soon."

"I thought you didn't _like_ Becca."

"What?"

"She stole your lip gloss," Teddy pointed out.

Ella waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge. I'll see you two later."

She rushed into the Great Hall in search of one of her Ravenclaw roommates, leaving Alfie and Teddy behind, watching her.

"So, she has a date with Leonardo Torricelli," Teddy commented, as he and Alfie walked to the Hufflepuff table. He was excited for Ella; she was, after all, one of his best friends, and he was glad that she had a date with a boy that she liked. "That's nice, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Alfie said. "What do you know about Torricelli?"

"He's a Ravenclaw, he's in our year, he's…" Teddy paused. "He's, um, top of the class at...no wait, no, that's Ella. He's second in the class at Transfiguration, and…"

"Yeah, but what's he like?"

"I...don't know. I've never spoken to him."

"Exactly," Alfie said. "We need to get to know him better."

Teddy was in full agreement with this, but there was one little problem: "And how exactly do you propose we do that? We can't sit him down and go, right, mate, you're dating our best friend, we've got to make sure that you're a good guy."

"Why not?"

"Alfie!"

"I'm just kidding!" he held up his hands in mock defense. "We'll figure something out."

They reached the Hufflepuff table and sat down next to each other. Alfie saved a seat for Ella next to him, and she joined them soon enough, muttering something about how it was almost definitely a date. Victoire joined them too, a rather reluctant-looking Riley Carrow in tow. Her ponytail was messy, as usual, but her eyes looked oddly hollow. There was something about her that seemed rather...un-Riley like.

"Hi." Alfie grinned at Riley. "How did the reading go?"

Ella kicked him under the table, Teddy groaned and Victoire gave him a menacing look. Riley, on the other hand, just looked confused.

"What?"

"Your reading," Alfie said slowly. "You left breakfast this morning to do reading."

Victoire gave Teddy a look that seemed to say " _Will you shut him up, or shall I?"_

Riley wasn't bothered, however. "Oh, it was fine." She waved her hand. "Honestly, it was simple, really. The things they teach us at this school - they really underestimate our level. The classes are so boring."

 _Which would explain why you went to none of them today,_ Teddy thought. Riley was certainly clever; she likely knew she wasn't fooling anyone, but she was constructing the perfect explanation for laypeople who might want to know why she'd been absent all day. He wondered how the teachers had let her get away with it; surely Professor Klossy, the Astronomy teacher and Head of Slytherin upon Slughorn's retirement, would have had something to say about her not showing up to classes.

"Hey," Alfie said, suddenly. "Who are they?"

"Who's who?" Teddy turned in his seat to see two individuals enter the hall: a witch, and a wizard. They were both dressed in dark robes that billowed behind them as they walked, and neither spared a glance at the students whispering around them; instead, they headed straight for the faculty table - specifically, for where Professor McGonagall was sitting.

"What is up with weird people walking into the Great Hall this year?" Ella muttered.

"Teddy," Victoire said tentatively. "That lady, I've seen her before. At Uncle Harry's Christmas party."

Teddy's eyes flicked to the woman; she had dark, braided hair that was tied into a long, sleek ponytail, and dark, deep skin. When she turned slightly, he could see her face more clearly: cat-like eyes, a sharp mouth and a slightly upturned nose. Thanks to the context Victoire had provided, it didn't take him long to place her.

"Tabitha James?"

Ella gasped. "Not the Tabitha James!"

"What's Tabitha James doing here?" Riley asked, trying her best not to sound hesitant.

"Who's Tabitha James?" Alfie asked.

"Her." Teddy jerked his head towards the lady who was now in deep conversation with McGonagall and the man she'd entered with, who he assumed must be her partner. "She works with my Uncle Harry. She's an Auror."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys so much for your reviews, faves and follows - they never fail to make my day! Guest reviewer Afsah: the story is canon-compliant, so take that as you will in relation to shipping!

Life is starting to get a little busy, so the next update won't be next Wednesday, but rather the Wednesday after (13th July), so that I have enough time to finish writing + edit future chapters! See you guys then, and don't forget to leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5: Conversations and Conclusions

**Chapter Five: Conversations and Conclusions**

 _I: Tabitha's trials_

Tabitha James was not one of the top Aurors in the business for nothing.

Her character was the kind that people described as being 'strong', for she was no-nonsense, frank and to the point. She was intelligent; she had more N.E.W.T.'s than anyone else in the office, graduated top of her class from the Auror training program, and was responsible for putting some of wizarding Britain's worst criminals behind bars, where everyone who even dreamed of misusing magic to enforce their stupid blood purity refrain belonged.

You either loved or hated Tabitha James, and she didn't care either way. All she cared about was doing her job well. She wouldn't stop at anything until the bad guys were locked up, and she didn't care how she managed to get them there.

That, she thought, was why the head of the department, Robards, had given her this job. She was young, much younger than some of the other Aurors in the department who had far more experience, but she was the best. This was a high profile case: two muggleborns kidnapped, one off the Hogwarts Express for Merlin's sake. The Ministry wanted it wrapped up, tied up tight with a nice pretty bow, as quickly as possible, and everyone knew she was the only one who could give them the answers they needed.

She sat on a chair in the office that Professor McGonagall had set her up in - a small room off the Transfiguration corridor- drawing up a schedule of student interviews. Her assistant (Robards had called him her _partner_ , but she preferred to think of him as her assistant), Munroe, had gone off to… to do something. She wasn't sure what, but she didn't exactly care either, as long as he was out of her way.

It was rather odd being back at Hogwarts, she thought. When she'd left at the end of seventh year, there had been a sort of finality to it as if that was that, done and dusted, a chapter of her life closed. It felt as if she'd turned back the clock to her days of spending endless hours in the library, of holing up in the Ravenclaw common room practicing spell after spell, of sneaking around in the middle of the night with boys. The castle looked exactly the same as she'd left it; only she had changed.

Student interviews were sure to be a pain - she wanted nothing less than to sit in this tiny office, talking to silly teenagers whose biggest problems related to homework and Hogsmeade weekends, but she wasn't about to let Munroe handle it. He might miss something and set them back days. She let him handle the administrative concerns: coordinating with the professors, pulling the kids out of class, bringing them to her, sending them back. She just went through them systematically, name after name, face after face.

She hated dealing with kids. She hated dealing with people in general. To her, each and every person was just another name on the list, another individual who was either bad, or good - for in Tabitha James' eyes, there really was no inbetween. You couldn't do something bad with good intentions, there were no shades of grey. You were just one thing, no matter how much you tried to pretend you were more.

No one saw the world in black and white anymore except Tabitha James. Other Aurors got attached, they got too involved with the victims, with the perpetrators. They went in too deep and were unable to resurface. That's why they weren't here at Hogwarts. The kidnapping of two children was one of those cases that only the toughest could handle, because it was too difficult for everyone else to stay detached.

As far as Tabitha James was concerned, it was her lack of concern that made her the perfect person for this job, and everyone else knew it.

At six PM on her fourth evening at Hogwarts, she scanned her schedule for the next day, hoping for something that might make the previous fruitless interviews worth her while. Halfway down the list was a name that stood out from the others. Tabitha stared at it for a few moments, before marking it with her quill.

 _Riley Carrow._

.oOo.

 _II. Accio_

Teddy Lupin and Alfie Hayes had always thought that it was rather unfair that just because Ella Anderson happened to be a Ravenclaw, she couldn't enter the Hufflepuff common room.

They hadn't always realised that she wasn't allowed to - in first year, she'd happily come in with them to help them with their homework until she was thrown out by a group of disgruntled fifth years who proceeded to lecture Teddy and Alfie about the sanctity of the common room and how it was only a space for Hufflepuffs. This, Teddy and Alfie decided, was incredibly unfair. After all, they'd been in the Ravenclaw common room a number of times and no one had said anything (although Teddy suspected that this had much more to do with the fact that everyone had been too busy reading to notice their entrance).

Still, over the next five years they made an effort to stay out of either common room and limit their interaction and time spent together to other areas of the castle, from the Great Hall to their favourite oak tree by the lake. Some exceptions were, however, made - such as on that particular Saturday when Ella stopped by the Hufflepuff common room to drop off a book that she'd borrowed from Teddy, and to meet up with the boys before lunch.

"I don't know how you live in here," she tutted, dropping the book on Teddy's bed, which was covered with clothes, scarves and books. "It's a mess. A complete mess. How do you find anything?"

"It's not that bad!" Alfie exclaimed, self-consciously brushing the covers of his bed down. "I mean, it's not that great either, but it's significantly tidier than it was a week ago."

"We've barely been back a week, Alfie." She crossed her arms and gave him a rather judgemental look.

"Well, it's tidier than it was when all five of us were unpacking," Teddy said.

"But -"

"I know Ella - your dormitory is perfectly neat and tidy all the time, and we should all endeavour to be like you. Let's just go."

"You _should_ all endeavour to be like me," she said rather huffily as they walked through the tunnel leading from the boys' dormitory to the common room. "At least I'm neat, and tidy and -"

 _"Where is it, Daisy?"_

A very anxious looking Matilda Goshawk was running across the common room, rifling through stacks of papers on tables and checking under every cushion. "Where is it? I left it on the table when I went to change my shirt after you spilled orange juice on it."

Daisy Shipkins was sitting on the sofa, checking her nails. She looked rather blasé in comparison with Matilda. "There are lots of tables, darling," she said casually. "I really can't be held accountable if you don't remember where you put it."

"She's got a memory of a goldfish, that girl," Morna Clemmons said, shaking her head.

Ella snorted quietly at this. "Clemmons is one to talk, isn't she?"

"Don't give me that, Daisy!" Matilda whined, her hand shaking slightly. "I know you took it. G- someone told me that you did, and that you've hid it and I really need it back, please! I have a Prefect meeting this afternoon, they'll notice if I haven't got it, and then I'll get into trouble!"

Daisy shrugged nonchalantly. "See if I care, Matilda. Maybe you should just try summoning it or something." She got up from the sofa, and gestured to Morna. "We're late for lunch."

The two girls sauntered out of the common room, noses in the air; Teddy heard them erupt into giggles as soon as they left. He approached Matilda, who was looking horribly upset and scared.

"You okay, Mat?" he asked her tentatively.

She shook her head. "That Daisy...she knows! She knows!"

"She knows what?" Alfie asked.

"That I can't use Accio," the Hufflepuff Prefect mumbled unhappily.

"You what?"

"There's no need to sound so shocked about it," Matilda snapped before visibly recoiling. "I'm sorry, Alfie, that was unfair of me. I'm just upset."

"That's fine," Alfie said.

"I could find it for you," Ella offered, taking her wand out of the pocket of her robes. "I got full marks on my Charms exam last year, it would take about a second and-"

"Matilda!"

Alfie let out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a squeal, and as a result, Teddy didn't need to turn around to know that Bella Watson was approaching. The Head Girl smiled at all four of the fifth-years - including Ella, who was trying very hard to blend in - and dropped a tiny badge in the shape of a Hogwarts crest into Matilda's hand. "Is this yours?"

The brunette gasped, and immediately pinned it to the front of her shirt before she lost it again. "Where did you-"

"It was on the floor near my dormitory," Bella explained. "I noticed you weren't wearing yours, so I thought it might be - "

"It is! Thank you so much!"

"How did you lose it?"

Matilda opened her mouth, hesitated and then shrugged. "I don't know, I just woke up this morning and couldn't find it. No idea how it got all the way to your room, but thank you."

"No problem." Bella grinned. "I've got to go see Macmillan about something now, but I'll see you at the meeting, yeah? You too, Teddy - and Anderson." She winked at Ella, who looked rather embarrassed, and mumbled something incomprehensible as Bella walked off.

Alfie let out a deep sigh that he seemed to have been suppressing. "She's wonderful, isn't she?"

"Yes, Alfie, you only say so ten times a day." Ella rolled her eyes. "She's Bella Watson. She's a human, just like everyone else."

"Not her. She's special."

Teddy exchanged a look with Ella - they had the same conversation with Alfie repeatedly, and after a while, it did get boring. He took it upon himself to change the subject. "Matilda," he began, "why didn't you say anything to Bella?"

The brunette looked up at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean, Teddy?"

"You know," Teddy pressed on. "About Daisy taking your badge. She's Head Girl, she can do something about it."

Matilda bit her lip and avoided eye contact with him, looking intently at a rather attractive watercolour on the wall that was supposedly painted by the Fat Friar himself during his living days. Teddy waited for an answer, but all she said was, "Mm."

He knew how to respond to a direct answer or even an evasive answer. He knew how to steer things back onto track when they'd gone completely off, and yet he had absolutely no idea how to respond to an "Mm."

And, apparently, neither did Ella, nor Alfie.

There was a heavy silence between the four. Matilda shuffled around uncomfortably, clearly hoping that the subject would not be broached again.

"Let's go to lunch," Teddy said at last.

.oOo.

 _IIII. Riley's interview_

Riley Carrow took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" called a voice from the other side.

She pushed the door open to reveal Tabitha James sitting behind her desk, quill poised, eyebrow ever so slightly raised and a smile on her face. Sitting at a table at the back of the room was the blonde man that had come in with Tabitha. Riley didn't know his name. She hadn't been paying much attention when Professor McGonagall had been introducing them. Rather, she'd been focusing on the fact that Tabitha James was here, at Hogwarts, and that it could only really mean one thing: the Ministry was worried.

Riley knew many people at the Ministry, for her parents were well-connected and wished to stay that way. The head of the Auror department, Robards, had been around to the Carrows' for dinner many times, and she had often heard him wax poetic about Tabitha and how she was the best Auror he'd seen. She was somewhat of a celebrity, the public face of the Auror department; she got all the best cases, all the toughest cases, and she solved them.

If Tabitha James had been put on the job, it meant that these kidnappings were the Ministry's number one priority.

"Riley Carrow, isn't it?" Tabitha said sweetly. Riley nodded. "Please," she gestured to the chair in front of her table, "have a seat."

As she swept her robes under her and sat down on the rickety wooden chair, Riley realised that she didn't really know what to expect from Tabitha. It was one thing to hear about her, and quite another to be sitting across from her, about to be interrogated.

"Shall we get right down to it then?" the Auror said, opening a notebook in front of her. "You know why you're here."

Riley shrugged. "Yeah."

"And why is that?"

This caught her off guard. "What?"

"Why are you here?"

Riley raised an eyebrow - surely this was wasting time. Tabitha knew why she was there. But she humoured her anyway. "To answer any questions that you might have about the disappearance of Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles."

"You know their names," Tabitha noted. Riley felt as if there was another layer of subtext to this that she was missing; the way Tabitha spoke, she couldn't tell whether she was impressed, or suspicious.

"Um, yeah, it's hard not to-"

"Well, it's an improvement over the last person I interviewed," Tabitha interrupted. "So, why don't you tell me Riley - may I call you Riley?"

"Yeah su-"

"How well did you know Melissa Cooper?"

"Never met her before."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Where do you live?"

"London."

"Where in London?"

"Hampstead Heath."

"Hm."

There was silence; Riley wasn't quite sure where Tabitha was going, or what she was implying, but she wasn't sure she liked it. It wasn't as if she knew every single person in London. Hampstead Heath was well away from Parsons Green, where Cooper had been kidnapped. If Tabitha wanted someone who might have been in the vicinity, she ought to speak to Ella Anderson- Kensington was much closer than Hampstead.

"What about Leslie Stiles? Did you know her?"

 _At last, a somewhat reasonable question_. Riley was starting to think that Tabitha James wasn't all she was cracked up to be; she seemed to talk in circles a lot. "Not well."

"Ever spoken to her?"

Riley hesitated - of course she'd spoken to Leslie Stiles. She wasn't about to forget it anytime soon. "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean, I'm sure I have, but I don't really remember any kind of...you know, significant interaction." _You're just a death eater baby, Carrow, you'll never amount to anything. You'll be behind bars in Azkaban by the time you turn twenty, if not earlier._ "We're not best friends, or anything like that, you know."

"No?"

"No."

"Interesting." Tabitha put her quill down and settled back on her chair. Riley almost thought that the interview was over, but she quickly said, "So would you say that you two are enemies then?"

"What?" This took Riley off guard. She might not like Leslie Stiles after the things that she'd said, after the way that she and Rosalind Kettleburn had laughed at her in the corridor, but then again, she didn't like a lot of people. It didn't mean they were her enemies. "No!"

"No?"

Riley was getting rather impatient with Tabitha - she kept asking the same questions in different roundabout ways, pushing at things when there was nothing behind them. "No!"

"Really? So you've never said anything to her? Never threatened her!"

"No!"

"Well, that's news to me," Tabitha said. "Because I have a quote, right here, from a student - hand it to me, Munroe. The blond auror gave her a slip of paper, and she read out loud: " _Riley Carrow told Leslie Stiles that one day, she'd die a painful death if she kept on this way._ "

Riley rolled her eyes. "Rosalind Kettleburn told you that, didn't she? I bet she didn't tell you why I said that."

"Pray tell." Tabitha folded her hands under her chin and gave Riley a rather prissy, expectant look.

"Leslie Stiles and Rosalind Kettleburn bullied me last year. They called me a death eater baby."

Munroe let out a little gasp; it surprised Riley, who had forgotten that he was there. "That's not-"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" Tabitha said icily. She turned back to Riley. "That's not what Miss Kettleburn told me."

"Well, she wouldn't, would she?"

"I suppose it boils down to who I believe."

Riley felt a bolt of fear in her stomach; something told her that Tabitha wasn't about to believe her.

"Why didn't you tell Professor McGonagall about this?"

Riley shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't want to be that girl."

"What girl?" Tabitha asked innocently.

"You know, the one who tells on other people."

"Or it didn't happen."

"It _did_!" Riley exclaimed angrily. "It did happen, I swear, I'm telling the truth, you have to believe me!"

"I don't _have_ to do anything, you little brat!" Tabitha snapped. Riley recoiled, suddenly afraid of the woman in front of her.

"Tabitha," Munroe said, hesitantly.

Tabitha ignored him. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Tell me where Leslie Stiles and Melissa Cooper are."

"I don't know! How would I know?"

"Funny, isn't it, that the one muggleborn who happens to disappear off the train is the one who bullied you."

"I thought you said you didn't believe me!"

"Shut it!"

Although the other woman hadn't moved at all, Riley felt as if Tabitha was looming over her, trapping her in a corner. She could feel her hands shaking with a mixture of anger and fear: how dare this woman come in here, to a place that was practically her home, and make her feel guilty for something she hadn't even done, for something that wasn't her fault?

"Tabitha," Munroe tried again, but Tabitha completely ignored him.

"You know where they are, and you've got to tell me."

"I don't know-"

"Yes you do!"

"Tabitha, she's just a kid!" Munroe shouted. Both Tabitha and Riley looked at him, surprised; the latter hadn't realised that Munroe was capable of raising his voice, and was somewhat grateful to him for intervening.

"You're right, Munroe," Tabitha said, suddenly sweet again. "She is just a kid. A kid with parents who likely know who's behind this, if they're not embroiled in it themselves. And Riley here's perceptive."

It was the first nice thing that Tabitha had said to her, and it was more of an insult than a compliment.

Riley made eye contact with her; she was unflinching, and she was so confident in her belief that Riley knew exactly what was going on. All Riley had wanted was fairness; someone who'd come to Hogwarts, and solve the mystery quickly and quietly, without invoking the blood politics that were always involved in situations like these.

She realised now that she'd been too optimistic. Wasn't she always?

"If we're done here," she said, getting up from her chair, "I have a class to get to."

"We're not done," Tabitha said, sharply.

She turned on her heel and left without a word.

.oOo.

 _IV. Ella's worries_

The week continued without much event. Teddy noticed that the workload had increased significantly; it was as if the teachers thought piling on essay after essay would remind them that they had O.W.L.'s coming up at the end of the year, and that these exams would determine what N.E.W.T.'s they could take, which would in turn determine what jobs they could go into and...ugh.

It was too much for Teddy, who preferred to live in sweet oblivion of the fact that he actually had a future to plan for. Ella, on the other hand, seemed to be reading a large number of books entitled things like, _Find Your Passion_ or _What Job Is Right For You?_

Her nose was stuck in _The Path Ahead: A Guide to Choosing the Career That Fits You_ when he found her on Saturday, sitting just outside the Great Hall. Before he said anything, she lifted a finger to silence him. "Let me finish this chapter."

"Ella -"

"It's just two more lines, hold on."

He waited, but tapped his foot impatiently. She skimmed the last couple of lines, and snapped the book shut. "Are you ready to go?"

"I've been ready for the last two minutes," he said pointedly.

Ella raised an eyebrow, as she gathered her things, shoving the book into her satchel. "You haven't been here for the last two minutes."

"You know what I mean. Come on - we're going to be late! And you know how Alfie gets when we're late."

She got up, dusted off her robes. The two set off across the grounds, heading for the Quidditch pitch. They walked in silence for a few moments before Ella said, "I had my interview with Tabitha James this morning."

"Oh?" Teddy queried, interested. He had yet to have his - it was scheduled for Tuesday. "How did it go?"

"Fine." She shrugged dismissively, but Teddy could tell that there was something about it that was making her uncomfortable.

"Ella?"

"She asked about my family," she said. "I don't know why - it's completely illogical, it doesn't make sense at all in the context of the kidnappings. She spent a few moments on Leslie and Melissa, and then it was 'Where are you from?' 'What do your parents do?'. It was just...weird."

"That does sound weird," Teddy agreed. "You don't suppose -"

"What?"

"Well, you don't suppose that -" he glanced around quickly to make sure that no one was around (no one was, but he lowered his voice anyway), " - that she knows."

Ella bit her lip. "I have no doubt that she knows. I didn't… well, I hinted at it, but I didn't come out and say it outright. She's probably done lots of research into us, and she probably knows all about Mum and Ashton. I just don't really see how it was relevant. To the kidnappings. Unless she thinks that they're going to -" she trailed off, looking rather stricken.

"Hey," Teddy said softly. "No. Of course not. She might have just wanted to know whether you're comfortable talking about it."

"Then why didn't she ask?"

"Aurors go about things in roundabout ways. She might've thought asking directly would...I dunno, spook you or something."

Ella smiled ruefully. "I guess I'm just worried."

Teddy's heart went out to Ella; despite her calm exterior, he knew that she was constantly on edge, and, quite frankly, he didn't blame her. Ever since she'd told him and Alfie about her family in second year, he'd just understood.

There were so many more layers to the Ella onion than most people realised.

"You shouldn't be," he said reassuringly, before pausing and correcting himself, "I mean, you've got every right to be worried - Merlin, I'd be too, but they'll be fine, Ella. Rajiv's there, isn't he?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, he won't let anything happen to them."

"Exactly. Now let's go watch Alfie, yeah?"

They reached the Quidditch pitch and took their places in the bleachers. Much to Teddy's relief, the trials had yet to begin.

.oOo.

 _V. The seventh year girls_

Macey Longstone was nothing if not efficient.

She'd been Hufflepuff Quidditch captain since Teddy's fourth year (she was in the same year as Bella Watson and Laura Shipkins) and he'd always admired her staunch work ethic. She was the reason that the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was at the calibre it was, and rumour had it that she'd been drafted by the Wimbourne Wasps for the season beginning next autumn.

It was the day after Quidditch trials, and she'd already decided upon the team. The list was to be going up in the common room at twelve o'clock sharp - in exactly three minutes - and Alfie was shaking.

"I'm not going to get it," he whined to Teddy as they left their dormitory for the common room. "I was _awful_ at tryouts."

Teddy scoffed. "Please, Alfie, you were brilliant. You scored the most goals out of everyone."

"No, I -" he paused, " - oh wait, yeah. But that doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything. You're going to get it. I know you're going to get it."

"Did you see the list?" Alfie perked up. "I know Macey's known since yesterday, she probably had the list for ages now, it's probably been lying on her bedside table for ages."

"No, Alfie," Teddy sighed, "I have not seen the list. Why would I be in the seventh-year girls dormitory anyway?"

Alfie shrugged. "I don't know, mate. You might get up to some nefarious activities when I'm not looking."

Teddy elbowed him and shook his head, laughing.

By the time they reached the common room, the sheet had just gone up on the wall, and a large number of students, including many who hadn't actually tried out for the team, were crowded around it. Macey Longstone stood to the side, watching everyone clamber. She seemed nervous, Teddy thought, and he didn't blame her. There was a lot of pressure riding on her decisions.

Alfie tried not to look too eager as he approached the list. He scanned it quickly, and his face broke out into a massive grin. "Teddy!" he exclaimed, spinning around. "I made the team! _I made the team_!"

"Congratulations!" Teddy said, smiling back - he hadn't doubted Alfie for a second.

"I can't believe it - I made the team!"

"You'd think it was his first time,"said a female voice from nearby, and Teddy looked up to see Bella Watson smiling over at him. "Congrats, Alfie."

Alfie went purple. "Thanks, Bella! Congrats to you too!"

"You made the team again?" Teddy inquired.

"Yeah, I'm Seeker again," the blonde said, blushing ever so slightly. "Really grateful that Macey picked me - I wasn't sure she was going to, what with the… well, you know," she pointed to her badge and Teddy nodded, "I've got so many responsibilities this year and Macey, she always wants the team to be tip-top."

"Yeah, but you're the best Seeker Hufflepuff has," Alfie pointed out. "She'd be bonkers not to pick you."

"Hah!" Laura Shipkins appeared at just that moment, crossing her arms. "She's bonkers _to_ pick you Watson."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Not again, Laura, please. I know you only got second string, but this really isn't a big deal -"

"Oh, I'm only second string for now." Laura tossed her ginger waves; Alfie just managed to dodge getting slapped across the face with them. "Once you drop out, I'll take over your position."

Bella gave her a funny look. "I'm not dropping out, Laura," she said slowly.

"You say that now," the other said innocently. "But you will. It'll all be far too much for you, you'll see."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

They continued to bicker; Alfie watched with a mixture of horror and fascination and Teddy stuck around just to make sure that he wasn't stupid enough to say anything that'd make him Laura Shipkins' new target. He barely noticed Professor Macmillan enter the Hufflepuff common room, speak to Macey briefly and then realise that two of his seventh-year students were making quite a fuss.

Professor Macmillan was not the kind of person who had an instantly commanding presence, like Professor McGonagall. He was fairly good-looking - tall, with messy blonde hair and dark eyes - but not the same kind of good-looking as Professor Smith, not the kind that made people immediately aware that he had entered the room. And yet, when he wanted to, he could make himself known in a split second.

"Watson, Shipkins!" he barked, making both girls - and Teddy and Alfie - jump slightly. "What's going on here?"

The common room quietened suddenly, anticipating that something was to occur. Out of the corner of his eye, Teddy saw Daisy Shipkins standing with Morna Clemmons - the two of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and it was all Teddy could do not to roll his eyes.

"Professor Macmillan," Laura said in a voice that Teddy could only describe as simpering. "Bella here's been made Seeker."

"Oh, is that so?" Macmillan turned to the Head Girl. "Congratulations, Miss Watson."

Bella inclined her head.

"No," Laura became slightly more agitated. "No, I don't think you understand. She's _Head Girl._ "

Macmillan raised an eyebrow, somewhat bemused. "Yes, Miss Shipkins, I am aware of that."

" _No_ ," Laura said again - she was beginning to resemble a child throwing a temper tantrum. "She's not going to have time to be a good Seeker _and_ a good Head Girl. She can't do both! That's unfair! And...it'll be tiring for her. She won't do a good job."

Bella twisted her lips to the side and rolled her eyes in an emphatic display of disgust.

"I see," Professor Macmillan said. "While I appreciate your...concern for Miss Watson, Miss Shipkins, it may be misplaced. If Miss Longstone," he inclined his head to Macey, "believes that Miss Watson will be a good Seeker, then so be it. I, for one, am sure she'll do an excellent job."

He paused, giving Laura a chance to reply. She appeared to be rather angry, but simply lifted her head and said nothing.

"Well, glad we've cleared that up," the professor said lightly. "Now, I just came to congratulate the new Quidditch team, so...congratulations. I must be off now."

The moment he left, Laura spoke again: "Don't get too cushy, Watson. Being Macmillan's favourite doesn't mean anything."

And with a toss of her head, she was off, sauntering down the tunnel to her dormitory as if she owned the place. Teddy and Alfie both watched her go, somewhat disgusted; Daisy, being Daisy, ran after her sister.

"Well, that was something," Bella commented. "But then again - can you expect anything less from Laura Shipkins?"

.oOo.

 _VI. Teddy's interview_

Tabitha James did not seem like a bad person to Teddy. She was brief, and to the point, and the interview was over within five minutes; she did not ask about his parents, or his grandmother. There were only a few, simple questions about his relationship with Melissa Cooper (there was none), Leslie Stiles (they had spoken a few times, but not often) and whether he had seen anything on the day of Leslie's kidnapping (definitely not).

He'd been a bit nervous before he'd gone in. The carved threat at the Ministry wasn't common knowledge, and he'd worried about somehow revealing to Tabitha that he knew, which was sure to get Riley in trouble, because he'd have to mention how he knew about it, but it never came up. In fact, she seemed...well, Teddy couldn't exactly put his finger on it, and he was sure he was wrong, but she seemed slightly distracted, as if there was something else on her mind, something more important than their interview.

Teddy was somewhat surprised that she didn't ask him about his godfather. Uncle Harry and Tabitha James were friends, that he knew. She'd been to his Christmas parties after all, and they had worked together for a long time now - Tabitha had joined the force around the same time his godfather had, and though they hadn't known each other at school (he recalled Uncle Harry mentioning Tabitha was a Ravenclaw), they were still well acquainted with one another. He supposed that was simply something that came with being an Auror; you had to know and trust the people you were working with.

"I suppose that concludes our interview then, Mr. Lupin," the witch said, nodding curtly at him. "Unless there's anything else that you would like to tell me."

Teddy shook his head. "Nothing I can think of."

"Thank you for coming," she said. "I shall be in touch if I have any further questions. You may return to class now."

Nodding goodbye to her and her partner, Teddy got up and left the small office. He had missed half of Charms and was rather eager to get back. It was a practical lesson, and he quite enjoyed being able to use his magic in classes. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to get in some practice before the dreaded O.W.L.'s - they might be ages away, but with a best friend like Ella, who was already fretting, it was impossible to forget about them.

His return journey to class, however, was cut short before it even began, for as he closed the door to Tabitha's office, he noticed a boy standing a couple of metres away. He was about Teddy's height, with ash blonde hair, narrow eyes and a smug expression. He wore a red and gold striped scarf and was playing with the frayed ends casually, as if he had no care in the world. Teddy was filled with a mixture of hatred and irritation at the very sight of him.

The boy looked up and spotted him. His mouth curled into a malicious grin and Teddy mentally began psyching himself up for what was sure to be a trying interaction. "Well, if it isn't good old Lupin."

"Hello Terence," said Teddy mildly. "Had a good summer?"

Terence Gates rolled his eyes and shrugged lightly. "Oh, you know, the usual. What about you? I didn't hear about anyone getting attacked by a werewolf brat, so I assume they kept you in your cage."

Teddy felt his blood beginning to boil. After five years of unfortunate acquaintance with Terence Gates, one would think that he would have learned not to let the idiot get to him, but alas, he had not. Ever since Gates had pushed him on the Hogsmeade platform as they disembarked the Hogwarts Express for the first time, they hadn't been able to get along. There was something about Terence and the stupid, idiotic things that he said that really angered Teddy - whether it was insulting Alfie's blood status by insinuating he had no use for a wand, or Ella's bookishness by suggesting she might as well jump inside one for all the practical knowledge she lacked. But worst of all were the things he said to Teddy. For some reason Teddy didn't understand, Terence hated Teddy's guts.

Well, perhaps Teddy did understand. To put it simply, Terence seemed to have something against werewolves. It shouldn't have surprised him, really, for despite progress in werewolf legislation, they were still stigmatised and distrusted by many members of the wizarding population. And yet no one at Hogwarts seemed to really, truly have a problem with Teddy being the son of a werewolf except Terence. Despite knowing full well that there was nothing truly wolfish about Teddy (apart from his inability to sleep on full moons), he still taunted and mocked him to no end.

Needless to say, Teddy wasn't about to simply sit there and take his insults, and his reactions had gotten them both into trouble a fair few times. Their enmity was well-known enough that in the classes that Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had together, the professors took care not to pair them up.

"I heard that a violent ape escaped from a zoo up north," Teddy commented. "I suppose they didn't do as good a job of keeping you in your cage."

Terence's jaw clenched. "You shut your mouth, Lupin."

"Only if you shut yours."

"Why don't you make me?"

He stood facing Teddy with a raised eyebrow and a daring expression on his face; Teddy knew he was taunting him, that he wanted him to attack him. He knew that if he did, it would just give Terence more material to spread around school - proof that Lupin was violent and not to be trusted. And yet he so badly wanted to smack the smirk off his entitled little face.

He was saved, thankfully, by Tabitha James. The Auror opened the door to her office at the very moment that Teddy was seriously contemplating punching Terence Gates in the face, and said: "Terence Gates, please?"

Her eyes narrowed as she focused her attention on the two boys. "Is everything okay here?"

"Oh, it's fine," said Terence, his tone completely different. "Just fine. Right, Lupin?"

"Right," mumbled Teddy.

"Well, let's get on then," said Tabitha, irritably.

With one last glare at Teddy, Terence turned his head, and entered her office. Teddy, his ears still ringing slightly, turned and walked to Charms.

.oOo.

 _VII. Arrogance gets you (no)(every)where_

Teddy's mood had improved considerably by the time dinner rolled around - despite arriving three-quarters of the way through Charms, he'd still managed to do well in the practical and had earned fifteen points for Hufflepuff. He'd gotten an E on his first Herbology assignment of the term, and he and Alfie had somehow managed to scrape a high A on their Transfiguration project, despite not really starting it until a few days before it was due. All and all, it had been a good day; he hadn't thought about Terence, Tabitha James or the disappearance of the two muggleborn girls at all, and was much less stressed for it.

He slid into a seat at the Hufflepuff table next to Alfie and opposite Ella, and was helping himself to roast potatoes when a tall, bulky boy with dark hair, a chiseled jawline and bright blue eyes sat down in the empty seat on Teddy's other side. There was something about the way this boy carried himself that conveyed his belief that he was superior to everyone else; he held himself exceptionally well, if not a little too straight and his head was always high.

"Hello Teddy," he said, in a deep, somewhat formal voice. "How are you?"

"Well, thank you, Michael," Teddy responded.

Michael Goshawk - Matilda's twin brother - straightened his Slytherin tie. "I've made the Slytherin Quidditch team, you know."

"I didn't know," commented Teddy. "That's excellent, well done, Michael."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "I'm surprised you're pleased."

Teddy glanced at the Slytherin. "Why wouldn't I be? We're friends."

"Yes, but I'm not in your house. My addition to the Slytherin Quidditch team puts Hufflepuff at a grave disadvantage."

It was all Teddy could do to not roll his eyes in extreme irritation. Michael Goshawk was the kind of boy who thought endlessly of himself. Ever since Teddy had first met him on the boats to Hogwarts in first year, he had gone on about how he was a Goshawk and how that, somehow, made him inherently superior to everyone else. It was the most irritating thing about him - he had plenty of ambition, but (if Teddy was being completely honest) not much intelligence to go with it, and he seemed to harbour illusions that he was Merlin's gift to wizardkind. Still, despite his inflated ego, he was a nice person, and Teddy enjoyed spending time with him.

He did not, however, get to spend _much_ time with him (which was perhaps good in a way, because Michael Goshawk was only really tolerable in small doses) because of the Slytherin's close friendship with one Terence Gates. Teddy didn't know what Michael saw in the other boy, but had long since realised that it was not his place to judge who Michael was friends with. Michael could be friends with Teddy, while also being friends with Terence. Just as long as Michael didn't share Terence's views.

A memory flashed into Teddy's mind, but he repressed it almost instantly. _It was a long time ago,_ he thought. _Michael's changed._

Michael was still blabbing on about Quidditch and how Slytherin was sure to win the Cup this year (Teddy took issue with this, for the rest of the team wasn't nearly as good as Michael made them out to be, but he refrained from arguing). "You know, Martin went to a Quidditch training camp this summer, he's learned all sorts of tricks that'll make him the best Chaser out there. And, of course, Professor Smith has offered to coach us."

This sparked Teddy's interest. "As in the new Potions professor?"

Michael gave him a rather contemptuous look. "Well, how many other Smith's do you know, Teddy? Of course the Potions professor - apparently he was quite the player in his heyday. _Quidditch_ player, that is." He added this last part emphatically in response to Daisy Shipkins, who had been listening, and had begun to giggle quite loudly.

"Is that allowed?" enquired Teddy.

Michael shrugged. "I guess. Macmillan helps out the Hufflepuff team, doesn't he?"

Teddy had no idea, but figured it must be true - Professor Macmillan was highly involved with his house. "I guess."

"Smith's a good guy," the other continued. "Good professor, well-known… knows of my grandmother - but then again, who doesn't? He's not as well-connected as Slughorn, of course, but then again, who is?" He chucked to himself before continuing. "Hope retirement is treating old Sluggy well - I've been keeping in touch with him, of course, it would be idiotic to lose a connection like that, and he seems to be doing well."

"Is he? That's good."

"Yes, he was a good professor. Though I would've liked to see him coach the Quidditch team - that would have been a laugh."

He paused, as if to imagine the situation, and Matilda Goshawk, who was sitting slightly further down the table, but close enough to hear the conversation and be heard, took the opportunity to say: "Well done on making the Quidditch team, Michael."

There was an icy silence before Michael responded: "Thanks, Matilda."

He did not make eye contact with her. She looked slightly hesitant, and then nodded once before distracting herself by pouring a glass of water. Michael went back to talking about something or the other, and all was normal once again.

Teddy, however, was unable to get those few moments of interaction out of his mind. It seemed that the summer holidays had done nothing to increase Michael and Matilda's closeness; rather, they were as cold with one another as ever before. The twins puzzled him - he'd heard so much about how twins were supposed to be close, how they were supposed to be like built-in best friends...he'd even wanted a twin of his own when he had been much younger. But Michael and Matilda were different; there was something between them, some kind of wedge, and no one had any idea what it was. It was just one of those things that had been around so long that people had stopped asking about it; it no longer seemed out of the ordinary.

But it was still there, and Teddy, despite everything, still noticed it.

.oOo.

 _VIII. Tabitha's conclusions_

The interviews took no longer than Tabitha James had anticipated.

She was particular about many things, time constraints included, and although certain interviews had run over their allotted time (Riley Carrow's interview came to mind immediately, but she preferred not to think about it, for it was the only one that hadn't exactly gone according to plan), she had managed to make up for it.

After all, Tabitha James was nothing if not efficient.

That evening - two Fridays after term had officially started - she was sitting in her small office with Munroe and Professor McGonagall. She was behind her desk, Munroe was standing to the side, and Professor McGonagall was also standing - near the bookcase by the left wall. Tabitha had offered her a seat but she had refused it; something about this small decision unnerved Tabitha. It was as if McGonagall wanted to remain in a position of power.

Tabitha didn't like other people being more powerful than her. She had a compulsive need to be at the top, but in this particular case, she supposed she was willing to (somewhat unhappily) concede. Professor McGonagall had, after all, taught her when she was at Hogwarts, and she supposed that accorded her some degree of respect.

"None of the children seem to know what happened on the train," said Tabitha. "None of them saw anything - "

"- Or none of them are willing to come forward," Munroe pointed out.

Tabitha ignored him - she was sure that if someone had seen something they would've said something. Her questioning had been too thorough. "- and quite frankly, it simply complicates the situation more. How did a girl go missing without anyone noticing? The Hogwarts' Express isn't exactly expansive."

"It baffles me, Miss James," McGonagall said. "The parents won't be happy with this."

Tabitha bristled. "Just because none of the children saw anything doesn't mean that we don't know anything." Munroe opened his mouth as if to say that that was exactly what it meant, but Tabitha wasn't about to let him make her look worse. "I think that there's still a lot we can learn from staying at Hogwarts, developing relationships with the students - that sort of thing."

McGonagall made eye contact with Tabitha and the auror suddenly felt as if she was in school again, in Transfiguration class, being berated because her pincushion still had spikes. She felt a wave of fear and distaste run through her; McGonagall had never thought she was good enough. She didn't want Tabitha hanging around Hogwarts - she'd realised that from her very first meeting with the Headmistress. She was going to kick her out.

"I think that would be an excellent course of action."

"Excuse me?" Tabitha was unable to hide her shock.

"The students need someone they can trust in this," the Headmistress continued. "They do not trust me - I have withheld information from them. You, on the other hand, are closer in age to them. They look up to you. I'm certain they respect you."

Tabitha disagreed intensely with this last point - Madame Riley Carrow who was rather too big for her boots certainly did not respect her - but she did not reveal this to Professor McGonagall. Rather, she smiled and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Keep at it, James, Munroe. Is there anything else?"

"Yes." Tabitha pushed a piece of parchment across her desk towards the Headmistress, who picked it up and examined it. "These are the students I want to keep an eye on."

The Headmistress raised an eyebrow as she scanned the list of ten names. "Based on…"

"A combination of what they said in their interviews, their relationship to the taken students and their family history." She paused briefly - McGonagall's eyebrow had risen further. "Unfortunately, no matter what we say, family counts for a lot in the wizarding world."

"Yes, Miss James," Professor McGonagall said quietly. "It does indeed. Is this -"

"For you, yes," Tabitha confirmed. "I've made copies."

"Very well."

Not long after she had left, Munroe turned to Tabitha. "And were you ever going to show me this list?"

Sighing dramatically, she roughly opened a drawer and threw a piece of parchment at him. "If you were any smarter, you'd have seen it when I was making it."

For a moment, he seemed as if he was going to respond, but obviously thought better of it (the first smart decision he'd made all day, in Tabitha's opinion). Instead, he scanned the list.

A few names stuck out. Rosalind Kettleburn was a given, she knew Leslie Stiles the best. Riley Carrow, he supposed, was also a given, after the way that interview had gone. Maisie Duncan, slightly odd, but she was the last person to really see Leslie Stiles. Ella Anderson…

He paused and looked at Tabitha. "Why Ella Anderson?"

Tabitha shrugged mysteriously. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys for all the support! I love reading your reviews, and I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter (and Tabitha James!). Chapter Six will be up in two weeks (July 27th) because I've been crazy busy lately. But it's definitely one of my fave chapters and suffice it to say relationships will be tested.

Until then! xx


	6. Chapter 6: Tick, Tock

**Chapter Six: Tick, Tock**

 _I: Midnight_

Not much was known about how lycanthropy would affect the progeny of those afflicted with the disease. After all, there had been very few children born to werewolves over the years: the stigma, the prosecution, and the lack of monetary funds all made it very difficult to raise a family.

Therefore, when Teddy Lupin was born, unbeknownst to him at the time (naturally), his family had watched over him with a degree of trepidation. His first full moon, only a few days after he was born, was an event witnessed with a great deal of anxiety: would he transform into a cub? Would he show any sort of reaction whatsoever?

The effects of the full moon on Teddy Lupin only became visible when he grew up. He would become restless, unable to sleep. He would suddenly be very cold, and then very hot, very hungry, and then very full. He would walk around the house, trying to tire himself out, but would find himself with more energy than he had ever had before. He would develop a taste for barely cooked meat, he'd be thirsty like never before and his senses would sharpen so that he could smell, hear and see things that he could not at any other time of the month.

The full moon was an irritation to him. It meant a sleepless night, a heavy-headed morning after. But he thanked his stars every day that it was nothing worse.

A sleepless night was nothing compared to transforming into a werewolf.

That Thursday was the first full moon of the school year, and though Teddy attempted to sleep, he found that he couldn't. At around midnight, he slipped into the common room with his schoolbooks - at least if he couldn't sleep, he might be able to get some work done. After all, he did have a Potions essay due in a few days, and despite Ella's constant nagging, he had yet to start the reading.

Settling down on a sofa in the common room, he propped open a copy of _The Trials and Tribulations of 19th Century Potionmaking_ and searched the index for the chapter on the Draught of Peace. He found it, and flipped to the correct page to begin reading.

He'd barely read two pages, however, when he heard footsteps. Alfie Hayes crept out of the tunnel to the fifth-year boys dormitory. His brown hair was slightly mussed and he was wearing his orange and blue striped pajamas. His green eyes, however, were wide open.

"You couldn't sleep, huh?" he said, climbing onto the sofa next to Teddy.

Teddy shrugged, looking up from the textbook. "It's a full moon. You know how it is."

He peered over at Teddy's book and made a face. "So you decided to _work_ instead? Merlin, you're boring. You're becoming more like Ella."

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying Ella's boring, because she certainly won't like _that_."

" _Merlin_ , no!" Alfie went somewhat white. "Don't tell her I said that, please!"

"Relax," Teddy laughed.

"You know," Alfie shuffled around on the sofa slightly, turning onto his side and propping his head up with his hands. "We haven't gotten to know Leo Torricelli yet. And his date with Ella is getting awfully close. The Hogsmeade weekend is… well, it's _next_ weekend."

"I know," Teddy sighed. "Things have just been so busy lately… the interviews, the… workload. Everything."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Alfie paused. "Still, she's our friend, right?"

"Yeah."

Silence for a few moments, and then Alfie added, "So how do we talk to him?"

"Who?"

Alfie rolled his eyes. " _Torricelli_."

Teddy shrugged. "I suppose we just go up to him and… start talking I guess. I don't really know. Do you think Ella's going to like the fact that we're talking to him?"

"Why wouldn't she? We're her best friends and he's her _boyfriend_."

"They're going on a date. They're not technically dating yet."

Alfie looked rather puzzled at this. "Wait, but they're going on a date- doesn't that mean they're dating?"

"Yes, but…" Teddy hesitated. "Wait. I don't actually know. _Relationships_."

"Tell me about it."

There was another brief silence. Teddy opened his mouth to break it by asking Alfie whether Ella had mentioned anything about the date of late, when both boys were distracted by the appearance of a tall blonde with a Head Girl badge pinned to her school robes.

Alfie immediately went very red and began to smooth his hair down. "I'm not here," he whispered to Teddy, who gave him a rather severe look.

"Please, Alfie. In those pajamas you are very much noticeable."

Alfie went an even brighter shade of red. Teddy couldn't help but think that his face rather clashed with his nightclothes.

"Hello Teddy, Alfie," said Bella Watson.

"Hey Bella," Teddy smiled at her. "Could you not sleep?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I thought I'd… well... seventh year's rather stressful, and sometimes things just get a bit… stressful, and I just needed to, you know, get out of my dormitory for a while." She gave the boys what Teddy thought was a rather forced smile. "But, um, I should go back in. I'll see you later."

She began to walk towards her dormitory, but paused for a second and doubled back. "If you guys could… er… not mention that you saw me, I'd be grateful. It's just that, well, Laura Shipkins has it out for me -"

"We noticed," said Teddy.

"Right. Um, well, if she finds out about this… you know, me leaving the dormitory in the middle of the night because I'm… stressed, she might not be too happy and she might make a big deal and say I can't handle being Head Girl and Seeker and everything. So if you could… just not mention it."

"We won't," promised Teddy.

Bella smiled. "Thanks. Night."

"'Night."

It was only once Bella had disappeared into her dormitory that Teddy realised that when she had entered the common room, she had not, in fact, been entering from the direction of her dormitory. Rather, she had been coming in from outside the Hufflepuff basement. And the library was most certainly closed at this hour.

Although both he and Alfie kept their promises to not bring up the encounter again, he couldn't help but wonder where Bella Watson had been so late at night.

.oOo.

 _II. Smith, as compared to Macmillan_

Defense Against the Dark Arts was miserable.

It wasn't normally so bad. It wasn't normally bad at all - in fact, Defense was one of those classes that Teddy found he actually quite enjoyed. But today, Professor Macmillan had been in what could only be described as a terrible, terrible mood. Their recent compositions hadn't satisfied him at all, and he lectured them for what felt like hours about how they all needed to start putting in more effort or the lot of them would fail their O.W.L.'s.

Needless to say, such a proclamation made for a rather sombre walk to Potions. Teddy and Alfie had both scraped A's; Ella had gotten an E and was actually upset about it, because she was aiming for an O in Defense. None of the three, however, dared to complain within earshot of Daisy Shipkins, who was raging about the P that she had received.

She was still complaining loudly when they entered the dungeon. Teddy would've thought that she might be a little embarrassed about her grade (he knew that he would be), but she didn't seem to care who heard - as long as they agreed that she most certainly did not deserve it and that Macmillan was being horribly unfair.

"A _P_!" she exclaimed for what must have been the thousandth time. "How could he give me a _P_?"

"It's unfair, for sure," Morna Clemmons assented.

"I just don't understand!" Daisy whined, dumping her bag on the table and sitting down huffily. Teddy noticed that she still had her essay in front of her, and was looking at it with a mixture of disdain and contempt. "This should _not_ have gotten a P! I worked really hard on this, you know!" Her voice quivered slightly as tears welled up in her eyes.

Ella groaned. "Please tell me she's not going to cry."

Daisy let out a tiny sob.

"Oh _Merlin_." Ella rolled her eyes.

"You'd cry if you got a P," Alfie pointed out.

Ella shot him a look. "I would never get a P."

Alfie paused. "Fair point."

"She's just crying for attention." Ella glanced over at Daisy, who was now surrounded by a gaggle of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls. "And it's working too - have you ever seen anything more nauseating?"

It was at this moment that Professor Smith entered the dungeon holding a stack of papers, and immediately noticed Daisy - it was somewhat impossible not to, considering that the vast majority of the class was gathered around her. Instead of commanding everyone to go back to their seats as Teddy had expected, he strode over to the distraught girl. The others parted to let him through.

"Is everything alright, Miss Shipkins?" he asked.

Daisy, whose cheeks were streaked with tear-tracks, shook her head. "No, Professor."

"Why are you crying?"

"Professor Macmillan gave me a P on my Defence Against the Dark Arts homework," the witch choked out. "And I w-worked r-really hard on it." Her voice trembled, and she dissolved into tears once again.

Ella shook her head with disgust and muttered, " _Some people_ ," under her breath. Teddy wasn't sure how he felt; somehow, he didn't think Daisy was just crying for attention - after all, it must be rather disheartening to do badly on something that you'd put a lot of effort into it. He wasn't torn up about getting an A on his assignment because, if he was completely honest with himself, he hadn't worked very hard on it.

"That is unfortunate," Professor Smith said, shaking his head. "Though perhaps this will cheer you up." He rifled through the papers he was holding and extracted one, handing it to Daisy, who glanced at it.

Magically, the tears vanished.

"An E?" She blinked up at Smith.

Smith nodded. "Any teacher who gives _you_ a P, Miss Shipkins, clearly doesn't have a clear understanding of what you're capable of. Well done."

"Oh _no_." Ella grimaced.

"What?" Teddy asked.

"Smith gave her an E."

"Yeah, I heard."

" _Smith_ gave her an E," Ella repeated. "This is going to make her more unbearable than normal."

.oOo.

 _III. Macmillan according to Laura_

If you'd told Alfie Hayes that, at fifteen, he would be sporty, he probably wouldn't have believed you. He'd _hated_ sports in primary - he'd dreaded the days when the teachers would take them outside to play team sports, he'd hated when other kids picked the teams because he was always picked last.

He didn't realise that the only reason he hated sports was because he hadn't found the right one yet.

In his first Flying lesson, it had become very clear, very quickly that Alfie Hayes was an absolute natural on a broom. Despite having never flown before, he showed the greatest skill in the class - somehow, he just instinctively _got_ how to handle a broom, how to take to the skies. It was no wonder that in his second year, he had become the youngest Chaser in a very, very long time to be named to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

That evening, at the first and second string team meetings, it hit him that it was his fourth year on the team. Not even Bella Watson, who'd been named to the team in Alfie's third year upon the graduation of Hufflepuff's previous Seeker had been playing for that long. In fact, as he glanced around the room, he was probably the player who'd been on the team for the longest, apart from Macey Longstone, the captain.

An idea flashed into his head - Macey would be graduating this year; the captain position would be left wide open, and perhaps Macmillan would pick him.

He dismissed it quickly. There was no way Macmillan would pick him for the position. He wasn't nearly as good as some of the other players, and he'd never had to lead anyone before in his life. Whether he liked it or not, he simply would not make a good captain. There was no point in getting his hopes up; he might as well stay a Chaser, for at least he knew that that was what he was good at.

"Right," Macey Longstone began, brushing strands of her dark, corkscrew curls away from her face. "We ought to start, now that - wait," she paused, glancing around the room, and her eyebrows narrowed. "Where's Bella Watson?"

Silence. Alfie glanced around quickly; he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed, but the Head Girl was very much absent. He couldn't help but think that this was most unlike her. Bella was _always_ on time for everything and it was one of the things he admired her for.

Faye Keyes, the first string Keeper, shrugged. "Maybe she forgot."

 _No_ , Alfie thought, _people like Bella Watson did not simply_ forget _._

Laura Shipkins snorted and tossed her hair (rather like a horse). "I _knew_ this would happen," she said, addressing her words to the person next to her, but speaking loudly enough for the entire room to hear. Some of the sixth years exchanged exasperated looks, but Laura continued: "She's simply overextended herself, as I knew she would."

"Yes, Laura, very good," Macey sighed. "I'm sure it's got nothing to do with being Head Girl - she's probably just caught up with something."

 _Yes_ , Alfie thought, _yes, that makes more sense._

Laura shrugged. "Suit yourself, Macey. We'll see who's right when she gets here. _If_ she gets here."

It was at that moment that the door to the Quidditch team room opened, letting a cold stream of air rush in. Bella Watson entered, looking rather frazzled: her hair was a bit of a mess (though Alfie couldn't help but marvel at how it could look both messy and perfect at the same time), and her face was slightly flushed. "Sorry," she said breathily. "I'm sorry, I had a meeting with Macmillan that ran over. Head Girl stuff, you know."

An evil glint had appeared in Laura's eye. "Of course we do."

Bella shot her a look. "I didn't realise that the second string team was going to be here, Macey," she said.

Macey opened her mouth to reply, but Laura cut in: "Spending an awful lot of time with Macmillan lately, aren't you, Watson?"

Bella gave her a funny look. "Yes, and Longbottom, and Flitwick, _and_ Klossy - all the Heads of Houses oversee my work, you know they do."

Laura muttered something under her breath that Alfie didn't quite catch. Bella, however, certainly did, and turned tomato red.

"If you're quite _done_ , Laura," Macey said emphatically. "Perhaps we should move on to Quidditch. We're playing Ravenclaw in a few weeks, and we're completely unprepared!"

"We've been training," Lucas Mills, sixth-year, and Macey's fellow Beater pointed out. "It's not like we haven't been training, and the team is largely the same as it was last year, with the exception of Hannah," he nodded at a small third-year girl with large dark eyes. "We'll be _fine_ , Macey."

"We've barely gone over Plan A, Lucas!" the captain snapped. "Ravenclaw's been working for _weeks_ \- they've probably gone over Plans A, B and C, and thrown Plan D in for good measure. I know that Piers McKone, he's probably had the team training since the summer."

"They hadn't selected the team in the summer," Alfie pointed out.

"Yes, but -" Macey floundered for a second. "You know what I mean. If we want to win the cup this year, we've got to focus. Okay?"

"Okay," the team echoed, dully.

"Again, with more enthusiasm."

"OKAY!" they chorused, louder.

"That's more like it."

.oOo.

 _IV. Snap_

Victoire Weasley loved Hogsmeade weekends. She loved being able to leave the castle for a whole day and do whatever she wanted in town, with no adult supervision whatsoever. She could buy as many sweets from Honeydukes as she wanted, go to the Shrieking Shack without having to listen to her mother complain about how tacky haunted houses were, drink butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks with her friends and watch the sunset before going back to school. Occasionally, she'd even run into her favourite uncle, George, who owned Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and he'd slip her a few extra sweets and some unreleased joke merchandise that made her the centre of attention in the Gryffindor common room.

That morning, she met up with Riley Carrow after breakfast and they walked across the Hogwarts grounds to the gates. Victoire and Riley always spent their Hogsmeade weekends together - the Gryffindor thought it just wouldn't be as much fun without her best friend at her side.

For that's who Riley was to her: her best friend. She'd felt guilty saying it at first because, after all, Victoire and Teddy had been best friends since before they could remember. She'd felt as if calling Riley her best friend was some kind of betrayal. She still felt close to Teddy, but as they were in different years, they simply didn't see each other as frequently as they would like. She had classes with Riley, and they spent most of their time together - it was only natural that they would become close, and quickly.

It took her a while to realise that she could have more than one best friend. While there were some things that she'd only talk to Riley about, there were others that she'd be more comfortable sharing with Teddy. She assumed that he felt the same way - after all, he was incredibly close to both Alfie and Ella, and she was sure that he had a similar relationship to them as she did to Riley.

"What do you want to do when we get down to the village?" Riley asked, wrapping her Slytherin scarf tightly around her neck. "Can we get a butterbeer? My throat kind of hurts."

"Butterbeer's good," Victoire replied. She loved The Three Broomsticks; it was a great place to hang out with other people from school, to relax and socialise. She wasn't awfully fond of butterbeer - it was a bit too sweet for her tastes - but she drank it anyway in an attempt to be social. After all, it was easier to just drink it once in a while than to explain why she was having something boring, like apple juice.

They reached the gates, ticked their names off Knobbles' list of students permitted to go to the village, and passed through. Victoire surreptitiously glanced back, trying to see whether she could discern the remains of the dark mark on the iron rods. She could not; the teachers had made sure that any trace of it had long since been destroyed.

A slight movement near the gates caught her eye, and the blonde spotted Tabitha James standing by the bushes. It was amazing, Victoire thought, how she managed to blend in; she was wearing simple black robes, no make-up, and her hair was in a ponytail. She was completely unassuming (strange, considering that Victoire had thought her rather striking), and many students passed her by without a second glance.

Riley noticed the direction of her attention and glanced back, but said nothing. Instead, she seemed to become somewhat uncomfortable. Victoire couldn't fathom why. Tabitha James had seemed like a genuinely nice person, who was fair and committed to finding the people who'd kidnapped the poor muggleborn girls. Her interview hadn't been bad at all - Tabitha had even been nice enough to ask about her father, who she'd apparently been in contact with on a Gringott's investigation a few years ago.

But Riley, she realised with a start, had yet to talk about her interview. She must have had one - Victoire remembered her leaving class on her way to the Auror's office - but she just hadn't mentioned it.

"How was your interview with her?" asked Victoire.

"Who?"

"Tabitha James." Victoire jerked her chin in the direction of the Auror. "You didn't say anything."

"I must have forgotten," Riley replied dismissively. Victoire noticed that she didn't make eye contact with her. "It was fine."

"What did she ask about?"

"I don't remember."

"What did you think of her?"

Shrug.

"Did she mention your parents?"

"I _said_ it was fine, okay?" Riley snapped, her green eyes flaring. "Leave it alone, Victoire! Why are you so pushy?"

Her outburst shocked Victoire slightly; she knew that Riley could be mean and temperamental - she'd seen the Slytherin's actions towards others - but she'd never acted like this towards her. "What's wrong with _you_? What did James say to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

This was a barrier that Victoire had been coming up against a lot lately. It seemed that whenever she asked Riley anything remotely personal, the other claimed she didn't want to talk about it, and quickly changed the subject. At first, Victoire had been accommodating, but now it was getting to be a bit much.

"You never want to talk about anything!" she shouted back.

Riley had the gall to look surprised at her tone, infuriating the Gryffindor further.

"What, so you can yell and snap, but I can't? Come _on_ , Riley! I get that you're going through a lot, and that none of this can be easy, but it's not easy for anyone! Rosalind Kettleburn lost her best friend and has no idea what happened to her - you don't see _her_ going around biting the heads off the friends she's got left. The muggleborns in this school must be terrified right now, because they think they could be next! You're not the only one who's being affected by this whole _stupid_ situation, so stop feeling so … so … _victimised_."

Riley stared at her. "Victoire, I-"

"You know what," Victoire said, disgusted, "I don't want to hear it."

"But I'm sorry! I didn't mean to snap."

"Then what _did_ you mean to do, Riley? We haven't talked about anything _meaningful_ since term started - I try to tell you that you should talk to your Head of House about the bullying, but you don't want to talk about it. Any time anyone says anything to you, you run away to your Slytherin common room. You disappear for hours on end without telling me where you're going and you leave me worried."

"You shouldn't worry then!" Riley exclaimed suddenly.

"I thought you said you were sorry!"

"You didn't accept my apology," the Slytherin said, spitefully.

"Because you only apologised for _one thing_."

"So I'm supposed to apologise for you worrying about me? Why do you even care so much, Weasley?"

Victoire stopped in her tracks. She turned to stare at the Slytherin girl, and said, coldly: "Fine, _Carrow_. I won't care anymore."

"Fine," said Riley, her green eyes betraying no emotion. "You know what, I don't think I want to go for a butterbeer anymore."

She stormed off, leaving a steaming Victoire behind her. "Fine," the blonde yelled after her. "Go around alone, Carrow! You have no friends anyway!"

Perhaps, she thought contemptuously, 'best friend' was an exclusive term rather than a category. And Riley Carrow was most certainly _not_ her best friend.

She tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and marched down into Hogsmeade in search of Teddy Lupin.

.oOo.

 _V. The first date_

The Knightley Bookshop was in an alley behind the Three Broomsticks, wedged in between two residences. It was small, with small window displays and a small square sign that could easily be missed if you didn't know what you were looking for, but the shop was still full of witches and wizards perusing the many titles on its wooden shelves.

On that Saturday, Ella Anderson and Leonardo Torricelli were near the back of the shop, browsing titles in the 'Transfiguration' section. Ella couldn't help but think that there was something poetic about it: they had bonded over a Transfiguration project, and here they were, on their first date, chatting casually about books on the subject and skimming through the latest titles.

"This place is amazing," she marvelled, as she extracted _The Transfiguration Conundrum_ from the shelves. "I've been looking for this _everywhere_ , but both Flourish and Blotts and Winklemeyer and Blotts said that they didn't stock it anymore."

Leonardo nodded. "They're supposed to have odd sorts of books here. The kind that you can't find anywhere else."

"Isn't that the best kind?" said Ella dreamily.

Leonardo laughed. "Definitely. There's something about reading books that no one else has that has a special kind of charm to it."

"It's like you're part of a special club," she assented, running her fingers across the spines of the books. "You've got knowledge that only a few other people have."

"Exactly."

There was silence for a moment - not an awkward silence, but one that came about naturally as they both took a few moments to look at the books nearest to them and add them to their growing piles of books to be purchased.

It was Ella who broke the silence. "I'm glad you brought me here."

Leonardo blushed slightly. "I'm glad you like it."

She grinned back. "I might not have found it otherwise - I usually come to Hogsmeade with Teddy and Alfie, and they have a time limit for me when it comes to going to Winklemeyer and Blotts. I get one hour, and then we move on."

"That doesn't sound very nice of them."

"Oh it's fine," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "It works well, actually - Alfie only gets an hour inside the Quidditch shop, so I don't have to spend too long looking at brooms and polishers and mechanical hands that catch the snitch for you - honestly, what is the point? Surely you'd want to catch the snitch yourself."

"I'm sure," Leonardo agreed, although he looked as if he didn't really have an opinion.

Ella continued on: "And then we all go spend time together in the Three Broomsticks, or we take our butterbeers outside if the weather's nice. It's fun to spend time with them, but at the same time, I really like...you know, _this_. Being in a bookshop with no time limit, browsing the shelves, buying a mountain of books - and you know, there's something nice about doing it with another person. Like Teddy and Alfie come with me to Winklemeyer and Blotts, but they're not as interested - Alfie especially, you can practically see him counting down the minutes until we leave." She laughed lightly. "But yeah, I'm just really glad that you brought me here. Not just because of the books, but because...you know, because you're here too. It's nice to have you here. I really like you, you know, and I'm glad that… you know, we didn't just do the Transfiguration project and leave it at that. I'm glad that you asked me on a date, and I'm glad that I accepted."

She had been so wrapped up in her little monologue that she hadn't noticed the subtle changes in Leonardo's expression. It was only when she concluded that she noticed him staring at her, his mouth slightly open.

"Wait, what?" he asked. "A… _date_?"

.oOo.

 _VI. Stew_

For someone who didn't like being alone, Riley Carrow was finding herself alone fairly often these days.

She walked around Hogsmeade Village quietly, not stopping, not going into any of the shops, just walking. Hogwarts students were milling around, but for once, no one seemed to pay her any heed. She was just the lonely, invisible girl; no one cared one bit what happened to her. She could disappear and no one would notice - and even if they did, they wouldn't care.

She caught sight of the Three Broomsticks and a pang ran through her - she should be in there with Victoire, laughing about something or the other, instead of out here in the icy wind, all alone. She quickly changed directions and headed for the small green patch near the edge of the village. She was unlikely to see anyone she knew - or rather, anyone she cared about - there.

Theoretically, she could just walk into the Three Broomsticks. Theoretically, she could just go up to Victoire and apologise for the way she'd been shutting her out. Theoretically, she could take it all back, and they could talk, and she could tell her everything.

But practically, it just wouldn't work. Riley Carrow, the girl who seemed fearless, was too scared to face her best friend.

(There was a reason, after all, why she was not in Gryffindor).

If only Victoire hadn't brought up Tabitha James. If only she'd stayed well away from the whole mess of the kidnappings. If only she wasn't so damn curious and touchy-feely. It was all her fault.

And yet, deep down, Riley knew that she couldn't blame her. Secretly, she was glad that Victoire had cared enough to ask, to show concern, and yet she had still just blown her off, shouted at her like she was in the wrong when really, Riley was bursting to talk to someone about what was going on.

But would Victoire even understand?

Though she would never admit it, Riley had always been jealous of Victoire: she was a Weasley. All her family was in the Order, they were the kinds of people that wizarding society idolised, that everyone wanted to be like. She was a Gryffindor. She was everything Riley had ever wanted to be.

It was too bad that Riley would never be Victoire. She knew it, and everyone else knew it too - especially Tabitha James. Just the thought of Tabitha made Riley want to throw up; she hated her with every fibre of her being.

And, because the world is full of unpleasant coincidences, particularly if you happen to be Riley Carrow, the very object of her hatred chose that exact moment to appear in front of her.

"All alone, Carrow?" Tabitha James asked (although it was more an observation than a question).

Riley made a big deal of looking over both her shoulders, before facing Tabitha and shrugging. "Gee, looks like it, doesn't it?"

"No friends?"

The Slytherin bristled, but attempted not to show it. "They're busy."

The Auror raised a knowing, infuriating eyebrow. "No friends then. Not surprising."

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Well, I've only ever seen you with that Weasley girl. Not surprised she blew you off - a Weasley would never be friends with a Carrow."

"Then you don't know Victoire," Riley snapped.

Tabitha shrugged. "Maybe not, little Carrow. But you don't know what she told me in her interview."

Riley paused. "What?"

"You heard me." A smug smile spread across Tabitha's face.

 _No_ , the younger witch thought. There was no way that Victoire had said anything about her. She was too loyal a friend, she wouldn't.

And yet she was angry at Riley - who knew how long the irritation had been building up?

"You don't know what you're talking about," she told Tabitha, but was decidedly less sure of herself.

"What are you doing out here?" the Auror asked, abruptly changing tracks. "There's no one else around."

"Except you."

"Where I go is my business, not yours. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to be alone."

"Funny place to be alone."

"How so? As you said, _there's no one else around_."

"Not meeting anyone?"

"No."

"Good place to meet someone if you don't want to be overheard, isn't it?"

"I said I'm not meeting anyone."

"Really?" she feigned surprise. "I didn't hear you."

 _Like hell you didn't,_ Riley thought. "Listen, I have to go."

"To meet someone?"

" _No!_ Are you thick, or something? I'm going back to the castle."

She turned and walked away from the Auror, feeling sick to her stomach. She wanted to get back to the Slytherin common room, go up to her dormitory and lie on her bed, all while attempting to forget that this day had ever happened. Perhaps if she wished hard enough, she'd open her eyes after a nap and everything would be back to normal.

.oOo.

 _VII. The first date?_

"It's...it's not a date?" Ella Anderson said, looking up at Leonardo Torricelli with wide, slightly terrified brown eyes.

What was _wrong_ with her? Why did she make these assumptions? She never made assumptions in anything else- not in her schoolwork, not in her conversations with Alfie and Teddy, _nothing_! She was so particular, so careful - how had this slipped past her? Of _course_ it wasn't a date. How could she be so stupid? Now she definitely had no chance with him.

He did not reply and she began to talk excessively again. "Oh my goodness, I'm so _sorry_. I shouldn't have just assumed - I shouldn't have said anything at all! Oh no, Leo, I'm so sorry. I've made this awkward, haven't I?"

The silence continued, and with each passing moment, Ella became more and more worried. Why was she such an idiot? It was no wonder, really, that no boys had ever asked her out before Leonardo - and even Leonardo hadn't asked her out, not really. She was just a clueless individual. She was fine when it came to schoolwork and books and all of those straightforward sorts of things, but apparently when it came to interacting with people who weren't Teddy or Alfie or Madhuri Lodi, her roommate, or Victoire or even Riley, if she was really pushing things, she was hopeless. Absolutely and completely hopeless. She might as well confine herself to the library for the rest of her days; at least she couldn't embarrass herself in there.

"Please say something," she said quietly, looking up at Leonardo earnestly through her glasses. _How could she make this all better?_ "I'm sorry, honestly, I didn't want it to be awkward like this. I promise, I'll never bring it up again."

"Ella -"

"I'm really sorry, honestly, I mean, I want to be friends with you, and I _like_ being friends with you. It's not _your_ fault that I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry!"

"Ella!" Leonardo interrupted. "It's fine, honestly -"

"-But it's not!" She waved a free hand around as she spoke. "It's not, I've put you in a difficult position, and it's not fair to you."

"It's fine, really," he said, and there was something about the tone of his voice that calmed her down slightly - he seemed earnest. "Look, I...I admit I hadn't intended this to be a date."

Ella flushed and tried to hide her embarrassment by becoming very interested in the book that she was holding. The blurb was so fascinating, she forced herself to think - developments in Transfiguration during the 1600s were so much more interesting and _straightforward_ than boys. Boys were confusing, Transfiguration was not. Transfiguration was straight with you. Transfiguration didn't say "it's a date" without meaning "it's a date."

All of a sudden, she found that she was no longer as embarrassed as she had been - rather, she was just irritated with Leonardo. Why wasn't he straight with her? Did he think that it was funny to mess with her feelings?

 _Boys_.

"But that doesn't mean that I don't...well, that I don't want it to be a date."

She was going to give him a piece of her mind, that was what she was going to do. She was going to tell him that he needed to be clear about his intentions, rather than simply saying things without any understanding of what they might mean to another person.

Wait, _what_?

"Er...did you not hear me?" he asked, and she realised she'd said the last part out loud.

"No, no, I did," she added quickly. "I...er...yeah, I did."

Silence.

"Um, so...I guess…"

"Mm?"

"Are we both on the same page?"

"Not exactly."

"I...I would really like to go out with you, Ella," said Leonardo. "I think you're smart, and funny, and really sweet, and I think we'd have a lot of fun. Together. I might not have asked you out originally, but I was just afraid of you saying no."

"I wouldn't have said no!" she replied almost indignantly.

"Yeah, but I didn't know that."

"Fair enough." She smiled at him. "So, um, are you asking me out now?"

He nodded, and said, more confidently: "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Her heart leapt. "Then yes, I would love to go out with you."

They both stood opposite one another for a few moments, giving each other dorky smiles as they tried to figure out what to say. Ella felt slightly disoriented - she'd never had a _boyfriend_ (for that was what Leonardo was now - her _boyfriend_ ) before, and it felt somewhat strange, and yet exhilarating.

Her _boyfriend_.

"Um, so what do you want to do now?" Leonardo asked. "I mean, I feel like...well, now that it's established we should - you know -"

"Go on a date?" Ella supplied helpfully.

"Yeah," he said, laughing slightly. "One where we both know it's a date."

She grinned. "I'd like that."

"Shall we get butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks, then? I know it's a bit commonplace, but I can't really think of anything else to do."

"Butterbeers sound lovely," Ella said.

.oOo.

 _VIII. Pub fights_

The Three Broomsticks was always busy on a Hogsmeade weekend, and yet somehow, Teddy always managed to find a seat when he wanted one. He was sitting in a booth with Victoire, drinking a large butterbeer and listening to Victoire rant. The Neon Cauldron's newest album was playing in the background and formed a good soundtrack for Victoire's complaints.

She'd caught up with him not long after he'd left Hogwarts, raging about Riley. It took her a while to calm down enough to explain what she was so steamed up about, but once she did, she was forthcoming and open. It was one of the things that Teddy loved about his friendship with Victoire - they could always be completely honest with one another and not have to worry about anything.

Even though he didn't like to see her angry, he was glad that she'd come to find him. His Hogsmeade weekend had been looking rather bleak, what with Ella off on her date with Leonardo Torricelli, and Alfie having caught a rather bad chill from playing Quidditch in the rain and being confined to bedrest for the day. He was faced with a rather lonely Hogsmeade trip - he could seek out Michael Goshawk, but there was always the chance that he'd be with Terence Gates, he didn't quite fancy playing third wheel to Victoire and Riley, and he hadn't seen Matilda Goshawk at all.

"I can't believe her," Victoire said grumpily, for what must have been the thousandth time. "She thinks that she can just treat me however she wants. The little…" she hesitated, and changed track, "I've been nothing but supportive towards her. All I did was ask a couple of questions. She didn't need to blow up."

"No," agreed Teddy. "She didn't."

Victoire bit her lip. "I am being a good friend, aren't I?"

"I'm sure you are," Teddy said comfortingly. "You're always a great friend, Vic, you know the right things to say and when. Riley'll get over it."

"I mean, I know that all this must be hard for her. But I feel like it's hard for everyone, you know? Like there are two people missing. Two people who should be with all of us at Hogwarts are just...gone, they've just vanished into thin air and nobody knows what's happened."

Teddy felt a slight shudder run down his back; there was something chilling about the way that Victoire said it so bluntly. "It's scary."

"Yeah," she said, softly. "It is. It's scary for all of us."

There was a moment of silence. Teddy sipped his butterbeer, letting the sugary substance run down his throat and give him a degree of comfort. He didn't like thinking about the kidnappings, and yet it felt like it was all he ever thought about.

And if it was all he ever thought about, he couldn't imagine what the situation was like for Riley.

She wasn't directly implicated - even though he didn't know her as well as Victoire did and was never able to read her, he felt like four years of acquaintance had told him enough about her to know that she wasn't involved. And yet everyone's behaviour towards her had changed because of her last name. It was instantly assumed that her family must have something to do with the kidnappings because of their past dealings. He remembered what she had been like after McGonagall had revealed that the dark mark was painted on the Hogwarts gates: small, meek and frozen.

He was angry at her for the way she had acted towards Victoire, and yet his heart, unbidden, went out to her. The craziness was enough to drive any sane person mad.

"Hi Weasley, you're looking particularly lovely today."

Terence Gates appeared by their booth and casually rested an arm on top of Victoire's seat. Both she and Teddy looked at it as if it was some sort of disgusting creature.

"Go away, Gates," Victoire said, glaring at him.

One would think that as Victoire Weasley was well-known to be Teddy Lupin's childhood friend, Terence Gates would automatically hate her (as he did so many others associated with Teddy). But alas, this was not the case. Instead, he seemed rather taken with her beauty, and kept hitting on her and asking her out - much to her annoyance, as she continued to refuse. It was not, she had said on many occasions, because of her loyalty to Teddy, but rather because she thought Terence was an arrogant prat.

Teddy didn't blame her one bit.

"Aw, Weasley, you know you don't mean that," Terence said, grinning at Victoire.

"I do, Terence," Victoire said sharply. "Get away, now."

Terence Gates had many faults, and one of them was that he simply didn't know when to give up. It was as if he'd never heard the word 'no' growing up, for he didn't seem to know what it meant. Instead of leaving, as Victoire had asked, he slid his arm around her shoulders. The younger girl visibly tensed up, and brought her fist down on his elbow. Hard.

"Ouch!" Terence jumped away, rubbing the spot on his arm where Victoire's hand had left a visible mark.

"You heard me, Gates," she repeated. "Leave."

"Say you'll go out with me. Leave this loser here," he gestured towards Teddy, "and come with me - I'll show you a good time."

"Leave her alone, Terence," Teddy said.

Terence turned his gaze onto Teddy and quirked an eyebrow. "Did I ask you, Lupin?"

"No, but Victoire's my best friend, so whatever you have to say to her concerns me too."

"Really?"

"Really."

" _Really_ ," Victoire chipped in.

"I must say, Weasley, I thought you had taste," the fifth-year Gryffindor said, shaking his head at her. "Lupin? Of all people? Even Carrow makes a better best friend than he does. She might be a death eater brat, but at least she's not a filthy half-breed."

Victoire gasped, her mouth falling open in shock. "You take that back!" she shouted. A few people around them turned to see what was going on.

"At least she _has_ a best friend," Teddy snapped at Terence. "What do you have?"

At this, Terence went very red. His upper lip curled and he had a dangerous look in his blue eyes. It was one that Teddy had seen many times before, and he knew now to expect the worst. His hand instinctively went towards his wand.

"Take that back, Lupin," Terence growled.

"Not until you take back what you said about me."

Terence scoffed. "As if! What I said was the truth - you know it, I know it, everyone in this bloody pub knows it. You're nothing but a disgusting, filthy half-breed. You think you're so wonderful because you can change your appearance at will - look, isn't it cute, your hair is going red - and because your parents were murdered in the war and that somehow makes them heroes-"

"Shut up," Teddy warned.

"- but they're not. Your father was a feral beast and your mother couldn't have been any better if she fell in love with him, and -"

" _SHUT UP!_ " Teddy roared, jumping up from his seat and pushing Terence roughly. The blood was rushing to his head, and he couldn't think straight; all he knew was that Terence had insulted him and his family one too many times, and that he'd crossed a line by bringing up his parents.

Instead of looking shocked, angry, or hurt, however, Terence appeared bemused, much to Teddy's confusion. "You started it," the Gryffindor said simply, and drew his wand, pointing it squarely between Teddy's eyes.

"You won't do that," Teddy said. "You'll get into too much trouble."

"You're right," Terence said.

And before Teddy knew what was going on, Terence's fist had collided with his jaw.

.oOo.

 _IX. Unexpected conversations_

There are a great many things in life that cannot be predicted.

Alfie Hayes knew this perhaps better than anyone - after all, he'd never have thought that he would be at a school of magic, learning Potions and Transfiguration and Charms. He'd never have thought that he'd have friends as wonderful as Teddy and Ella. He'd never have thought that any of this would happen.

He still thought it was a dream sometimes.

He'd been in his dormitory all morning thanks to an unfortunate cold he'd picked up while playing Quidditch in the rain. Macey Longstone had absolutely freaked out - she was determined that the entire first string team should play in the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match, and commanded Alfie to stay in bed until he was recovered. But there was something rather oppressive, suffocating about staying in the same place all day, barely moving. Macey and the rest of the team were in Hogsmeade, after all, it wasn't as if they'd know if Alfie decided to roam around the castle.

So that was exactly what he did. He got dressed and went down for lunch, and after consuming copious amounts of pumpkin soup, decided to have a little stroll around the castle. The sun was bright, and though there was a chill in the air, he was protected well enough not to really feel it; he thought that the fresh air might do him good.

One of the many things that Alfie loved about Hogwarts was that there was always something new to discover. The grounds were expansive, and despite spending five years at the school, he had yet to explore them in their entirety. So as he wandered, he made an effort to diverge off the paths that he'd been on before, to discover new places that he'd never seen before. Instead of turning right behind the Astronomy Tower, he turned left and walked for a few moments before coming across a meadow that he'd never seen before. It was small, but rather peaceful, with long grasses and flowers dotting the lawn.

He liked it instantly. It made him feel calm.

It took him a few moments to realise that he was not the only one in the meadow. A girl was sitting by a tree near the edge reading a book; he could barely make out her features from the distance, but he thought there was something familiar about her. He debated for a few moments about whether he should leave her alone, or approach her and ask her if it was okay for him to be there (for even though it was a public space, Alfie felt as if he was intruding on her).

As he approached the girl, her face became clearer and, with a start, he realised who it was.

Riley Carrow looked up from her book and blinked, surprised to see him. "I didn't know anyone else knew about this place," she commented.

"I didn't," he admitted. "I just found it. I can leave if you want me to."

She raised an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious, and he was about to turn, when she suddenly said, "You can stay if you want. I don't really mind."

"Um...okay." He sat down near her, somewhat unsure of what to do. Although he'd spent time with Riley before, he wouldn't say that they were close, or even friends, really. Their relationship was comprised of a series of other relationships: she was his best friend's best friend's best friend. It was weird to be with Riley without Victoire or Teddy around. "I...um...weren't you in Hogsmeade?"

"I left."

"How come?"

"Didn't really feel like being around people."

"Do you want me to leave?"

She rolled her eyes. " _No_ , Alfie, it's fine."

There was an awkward silence; Alfie began to rifle around in his bag for something to do (he hadn't brought a book with him because, despite Ella's attempt to instill a love for them into him, he did not enjoy reading in any way, shape or form). Eventually, he found a small notebook, and a quill and opened it, with the intention of doodling absentmindedly.

He did not notice that while he was doing this, Riley had not gone back to her book, as he had expected her to. Rather, she was staring straight at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, as if she was in some kind of trance, or simply thinking about something very intensely.

Therefore, Alfie got quite the shock when she said, "Tabitha James thinks that I know something about the kidnappings."

"What?" he exclaimed, almost dropping his notebook.

Riley looked rather surprised herself at her unusual candour, but she pressed on anyway; it was almost as if she couldn't quite help herself. "I don't know why - well, that's a lie, I _do_ know why. She thinks that I know something because of who my parents are. She knows just as well as I do that they're not death eaters, but, well, they move in those sorts of circles. Pureblood circles. It's not a jump to think that they'd interact with people who might support the kidnapping of muggleborns."

She seemed to have forgotten that Alfie was a muggleborn. He nodded nervously, unsure what to say.

"I don't know anything about the kidnappings," she continued. "I have no idea who's behind them, or why they took the girls, or _where_ they took the girls. I'm just sick of people thinking that I do. I'm sick of people assuming that I believe in pureblood superiority just because of my last name. I'm sick of it all."

"I can imagine," Alfie murmured.

There was a brief silence, before Riley said: "I fought with Victoire, you know. She wanted to know about my interview with Tabitha James, and I...I didn't want to tell her."

"Why?" asked Alfie. He wasn't really expecting a response (after all, if Riley hadn't wanted to tell Victoire, why on Earth would she tell him?) but he got one regardless.

"She thinks Tabitha James is fair - hell, she probably thinks all Aurors are fair. I didn't want to break that for her. I didn't want to talk about the way Tabitha accused me, as if I was just some kind of criminal. I didn't want to…" she broke off for a moment, before quietly adding, "to make her realise that she agreed with Tabitha."

For the first time, Alfie felt a great deal of sympathy towards the Slytherin. "You know," he said tentatively, "Victoire wouldn't…"

"Yeah, I know," she said, sadly. "I know."

"You should apologise."

"I know."

Pause.

"Will you apologise?"

"Probably not. Unless she does first."

There was another brief hesitation before Alfie asked, rather bluntly, "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you telling me all of this?"

Riley paused for a second, cocking her head to the side as she considered the question thoughtfully. A few heavy moments passed by before she finally made eye contact with him and said, "I don't know. I don't usually talk like this."

"You don't say."

She shrugged. "I guess I...I don't know. I wouldn't say this to anyone I really care about, you know."

Alfie wondered whether he should be wounded by this - she seemed to be searching for signs of hurt. Her demeanour had changed: she was no longer being open and candid, but was rather more closed off, more like she always was. He felt strange - it was odd, in a way, to see a side of a person that you'd never seen before, that you'd never really expected to see.

He knew in that moment that he'd never look at Riley in the same way again.

.oOo.

 _X. Pub fights: second half_

For a moment, all Teddy saw was red.

Slowly, the world came back into focus. He saw Terence Gates standing over him, fist still clenched. He became aware of the aching pain in his jaw, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. And then, he became acutely aware of the mixture of anger and adrenaline that coursed through his veins.

Without thinking, he dragged himself to his feet, tightly clenched his fingers into a fist, and, ignoring Victoire's protests, hit Terence squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backwards, and Teddy, filled with rage unlike anything he'd ever experienced, got ready to hit again. He blocked the Gryffindor's punches, and attempted to swing another hit. Terence dodged it.

" _Teddy, what in Merlin's name are you doing_?" came a shrill voice. He looked up towards the doorway to see Ella Anderson rushing over to him, Leonardo Torricelli a few steps behind. He hadn't realised that she was in the pub.

Terence took advantage of his momentary distraction to aim a kick to his knees. Teddy stumbled and fell over, but quickly managed to get up again. Terence was cackling loudly, and Teddy wanted nothing more than to wipe the smile of his smug little face. He lunged for him, but was stopped: Ella and Victoire had grabbed his arms and were holding him back.

"Let me go!" he shouted at Ella, who was struggling to keep hold of him. "You didn't hear what he said about my parents."

"He's not worth it!" she shouted back. "He's not worth getting in trouble for!"

"Let me _go_!" he pulled against them, but couldn't break free without hurting them. Terence, highly amused by the sight of Teddy being restrained by two girls, began to laugh even louder.

"Not as strong as you look, eh, Lupin?" he said, sauntering off. Teddy began to struggle more fiercely, but the girls managed to pool their strength and pin his arms together behind his back. They only let go when Terence had shut the door of the pub behind him, and when Teddy had promised that he wouldn't go after him.

"I can't believe you did that," he said, glaring at Ella.

"What would you have rather I had done?" she snapped. "Watched and cheered you on?"

"You didn't hear what he said!"

"Whatever he said, it's not worth getting expelled for, Teddy."

"That's easy for you to say! You don't know what it's like!"

Ella's expression did not change, but there was something in her eyes and the way her lips suddenly became very thin that reminded Teddy that she did, actually, know what it was like. "I- I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just angry and…"

"I know," she said, although she did not sound pleased. "I suppose we'd better get you back to the castle."

"Probably a good idea," Victoire murmured. She was looking a little shaken by the encounter.

"Just give me a second." Ella got up and quickly ran back to where Leonardo Torricelli was standing rather awkwardly. They exchanged words in hushed voices; Ella turned rather red, and was fiddling with her hands like she always did when embarrassed. Leonardo kept nodding, and Teddy noticed that he did not look thrilled - quite the opposite, in fact.

There was silence as Teddy, Ella and Victoire walked back up to the castle. Victoire attempted to make conversation, but neither Teddy nor Ella responded. Teddy was still angry - he didn't really want to go back to the castle, he wanted to find Terence and make him pay. No one should be able to get away with insulting his parents like that - if only Ella hadn't come in and pulled him off. Victoire hadn't been doing anything until the Ravenclaw arrived - _she_ understood that Teddy needed to do what he needed to do.

It was only when Victoire left to go back to her common room that Ella turned around and began to shout at Teddy: "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_? You're the one who interfered!"

"I had to!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Would you have rather have been expelled?"

He hesitated, and she took this as a positive affirmation. "Exactly. I had to intervene, and you know it. For Merlin's sake, Teddy, don't you know by now not to let Terence get to you? This is exactly what he wants - a rise!"

As much as he hated to admit it, she knew he was right. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"That's not good enough!" Ella exclaimed. "You're always sorry after it's all over, but you just don't _think_. It was so embarrassing for me to walk in on you like that - you're my best friend, can you even imagine what Leo must have thought?"

"Hang on," Teddy said, angrily, "since when is this about _you_?"

"What you do affects your friends too, you know! It was my first chance with a guy, Teddy, and _you had to blow it_."

"This isn't about you!" He raised his voice, ignoring her. "You didn't have to intervene!"

"We're back to this, are we?"

"You don't care about me getting expelled at all!" His temper was rising again - he couldn't believe that Ella had such warped motives. "You just care about how I made you look in front of your _boyfriend_."

"That's not true!"

"It is!"

"It is not! Not entirely!"

"You know what," he said, disgustedly. "Forget it."

"Fine!" She glared at him, tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder and pushed up her glasses. "I'm leaving!"

"Fine!"

Ella turned around and stormed off in the Ravenclaw common room, muttering something under her breath.

"What was that?" Teddy yelled after her.

She rounded the corner, as if she hadn't heard him, and disappeared from sight, leaving Teddy alone and fuming

.oOo.

 _XI. In retrospect, it all seems inconsequential_

Angus Munroe didn't know what he had done to deserve this assignment.

He was young - he'd been accepted to the Auror training programme straight out of Hogwarts, thanks to his excellent grades, and had spent three years learning everything there was to know. This was his first major case, coming not a moment too soon a year after graduation. At first he'd been excited: it was high-profile, and was exactly the kind of thing that he'd always wanted to work on. It would be the dream job - if only he had a different partner.

Tabitha James was a legend in the Auror office, but she was a legend that Munroe now realised was nothing like the reality. Tabitha James was a crabby, self-entitled woman who seemed to think that she knew best (to her credit, she often did) and that no one else should have any sort of say in the workings of the case. He had wanted to learn from her, but it was difficult to learn anything when she told him nothing and gave him only tiny assignments that "he couldn't screw up."

That was why he was patrolling Hogsmeade that evening. He didn't know _why_ he was doing it - in fact, it was rather boring strolling up and down the streets. He passed the Three Broomsticks again and again; his throat was dry and he yearned for a drink, but he was on the job, and if Tabitha found out he'd had so much as a butterbeer, his head would be on the chopping block.

That was why he was stuck with this job. He could not appeal for a transfer, because if he did, he would have to explain to Robards that he did not want to work with Tabitha James. And Robards was practically in love with Tabitha James (in his defense, she _had_ solved several major cases) - to insult her would spell the end of his career.

He was thinking up excuses that might be acceptable when he first saw the message.

It didn't appear until the sun began to set. As the rays began to disappear over the horizon, the words appeared on the windows, slowly becoming brighter and brighter as the world became darker until each letter was neon and clear. People streaming out of shops began to whisper and point, and Munroe, who was near Honeydukes, stared at the words in silence, reading them again and again and again.

 _We have Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles. They are alive, and will continue to be if you meet our demands. All muggleborn Ministry of Magic officials are to step down and be replaced by those of more worthy blood. This is the first demand. You have until six PM tomorrow. Do as we say to avoid the consequences._

And, as if to ensure that no one thought it was a hoax, it was signed with a large, grotesquely detailed dark mark.

Instinctively, Munroe pulled out his wand and silently cast his patronus - a cocker spaniel. The little dog bounded off to the Ministry of Magic; Robards needed to know, and he needed to know _now_ so that he could inform the Minister. He hesitated for a moment before casting a second patronus. This was not the time for workplace grudges; no matter what he thought of her, Tabitha James needed to be informed.

He hesitated for slightly longer before sending the third patronus, but did not regret his decision to do so.

The next morning, the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ carried the message in full.

* * *

 **A/N:** 10,491 words later - congratulations on making it through this mammoth of a chapter! It was one of my favourites to write, and I really hope that you guys enjoyed reading it! As usual reviews make my day, as do follows and favourites.

Chapter Seven will be out in two weeks (10th of August) because (a) I'm travelling and (b) these chapters take forever and a day to write! See you then xx


	7. Chapter 7: Aftermath

**Chapter Seven: Aftermath**

 _I: Reactions_

For as long as Teddy Lupin had known her, Ella Anderson had been subscribing to the _Daily Prophet_. It arrived each morning, and she skimmed the front page at breakfast before tucking the newspaper away into her bag for in-depth reading and analysis later in the day. When they had been younger, Teddy couldn't possibly understand _why_ she was so interested in the news, but now he realised the importance of keeping up with the wider wizarding world. Hogwarts was a bit like a bubble; unless the news directly concerned the school, the students passed their days blissfully unaware of it.

Now, of course, the news was of greater interest to many students, and several got the _Prophet_ delivered each morning. Therefore, by the time Teddy got down to the Great Hall for breakfast, knowledge of the demand was widespread.

Alfie filled him in quickly, but was unsure of the exact details. Instinctively, Teddy looked around for Ella - if anyone would be well-versed in the minute details, she would - but she was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, clearly avoiding eye contact with him. It took him a moment to remember that she was angry at him, and, sighing, he turned back to Alfie, who looked at him somewhat pityingly.

"She'll get over it eventually," he told Teddy. Victoire, who was sitting nearby, nodded earnestly.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Teddy," she said.

"I hit Terence," he mumbled.

"Yeah, but you were totally justified," she reassured him. "If it was me who he'd said those things to, I'd have done exactly the same."

"Yeah, but Ella-"

"Will get over it," Alfie cut in. "She always does. That girl can't hold a grudge."

Teddy gave him a look, and Alfie reconsidered before saying, "Well, I mean she can, if Daisy Shipkins is any indication, but she can't hold a grudge against _you_. That's what I meant to say. You're one of her best friends."

"I suppose so," Teddy mumbled, breaking eye contact with Alfie and focusing instead on the bowl of porridge in front of him.

There was silence for a few moments, before Victoire, who was shuffling rather uncomfortably, said, "So."

"So," Alfie echoed.

Silence again.

"I don't really know what to say," she said, quietly. "This is all...I don't know. How could everything go so wrong in a day? Teddy, you're fighting with Ella, I'm fighting with Riley, and that demand…" She paused briefly. "Do you think the Ministry's going to do it? Make all muggleborn officials step down?"

"No," Teddy said, firmly. "They wouldn't."

"But what about the consequences?" Alfie protested. "They wouldn't...sacrifice the lives of two kids, would they?"

"Of course not, but they're not going to give in that easily. You read the message - it said that this was only the first demand. If they want the Ministry to keep listening to them, they'll need to keep Melissa and Leslie alive as leverage."

"Teddy has a point," Victoire said.

"So what are they going to do?" asked Alfie.

"Tabitha James isn't here," Victoire noted. Teddy looked up at the faculty table, where the Auror and her assistant had taken to eating their meals. Both were conspicuously absent; the plates that had been laid out for them were untouched. "Do you think they've called her back to London to help with the decision?"

"I don't think so," Teddy said. "That'd be silly, wouldn't it? What with the demands...they'd want Aurors at Hogwarts. But I wouldn't be surprised if she was involved with the discussion somehow. I wonder if she's found out anything … I don't know what her interviews with students could have possibly given her, in terms of information about the kidnappings, but she wouldn't have carried them out unless she thought that they'd be of some value, right?"

At this, Alfie nodded, but Teddy noticed that he looked somewhat uncomfortable. This was particularly strange, he thought - Alfie had said that his interview with Tabitha James had gone well, and that he'd quite liked the Auror. But ever since yesterday, he'd been oddly evasive when she'd come up in conversation (as she often did, being a novel presence at the school), and Teddy had no idea why.

"This is all so awful," Victoire said, burying her face in her hands dramatically.

The trio had no chance, however, to further discuss the latest turn in events, for at that very moment, Michael Goshawk slid into the empty seat (usually occupied by either Ella or Riley, both of whom were very much not present) next to Teddy.

The Slytherin was not the kind of person who beat around the bush. He was always very clear about his intentions (which often related to furthering himself) and when he wanted something, he cut straight to the chase. That morning was no different - after greeting Teddy, Alfie and Victoire pompously, and helping himself to the sliced strawberries, he turned to Teddy and said, "I heard you and Terence Gates got into a bit of an altercation at the Three Broomsticks yesterday."

"You did, did you?" Teddy replied, flatly.

"Oh yes, it's all over school now."

"Hogwarts is small."

"Quite frankly, I'm surprised you didn't get into any sort of trouble, fighting with another student. You must have some good connections."

Teddy shrugged. He, too, was fairly surprised that none of the teachers had anything to say about the incident with Terence - they weren't exactly impervious to the gossip that circulated around the school. "I guess they've got more on their minds right now."

"Plus, it wasn't Teddy's fault," Alfie piped up. "Terence started it, you know."

"Funny, Hayes, I didn't realise you were there," Michael said. His voice lacked malice, but Alfie seemed to take it as an insult and turned rather pink.

"He said awful things about Teddy's parents!"

"Alfie, it's fine," Teddy mumbled, not wanting to push Michael. The Slytherin was often caught between Teddy and Terence - an inevitable consequence of being friends with both - and, to be quite frank, Teddy was scared of putting too much pressure on him. Ever since first-year, he'd been worried of Michael being forced into choosing between Teddy and Terence, and Teddy wasn't sure that the outcome would be in his favour.

"Did he?" Michael replied, somewhat evasively. "I hadn't heard that." His eyes flicked to his strawberries and he busied himself by slicing them into even smaller pieces.

Alfie opened his mouth to say something, but backed down when Teddy glared at him.

Silence.

Victoire's eyes flicked back and forth between the three boys, until finally, in an attempt to diffuse the tension, she cleared her throat.

"Anyone for orange juice?"

.oOo.

 _II. As it is meant to be_

Ella Anderson knew how to hold a grudge.

The first time, she was in primary school. Lila Boddington thought it would be funny to call her names that, upon reflection, were rather racist. Although they upset her, Ella did not deign to respond; instead, she went about her day as normal. But when Lila beat her in the next spelling test, Ella decided that she had had enough. Her birthday was coming up, and she chose to invite all the girls in her class, except Lila Boddington.

Naturally, when Ella's parents found out, they were furious. They demanded that she apologise to Lila, and when Lila came to Ella the next day, teary-eyed and promising to never be mean to Ella again, Ella relented. Lila was invited to Ella's birthday party, and though they never became best friends, they were never enemies either.

Ella Anderson knew how to hold a grudge, but she also knew how to forgive and forget when the time came.

But as far as she was concerned, the time to forgive Teddy had most certainly not come. _Boys_ , she thought, as she sat at her desk in her dormitory, furiously scribbling away at a Potions essay that wasn't due for another week. Why were they all such idiots? Why didn't they _think_ , why were they so hotheaded? What on Earth had possessed her to become best friends with two, _stupid_ boys? She should have seen something like this coming from miles away.

"I hate boys," she groaned emphatically.

One of her roommates, Becca Dillion, quirked a perfect eyebrow. Becca was a petite brunette, with large hazel eyes the shape of almonds, flawless, creamy skin and heart-shaped lips. In short, she was the kind of girl who boys liked, and she most certainly did _not_ hate boys. "That's not the right attitude," she reprimanded Ella. "How will you ever get a boyfriend like that?"

"I don't _need_ a boyfriend," Ella mumbled, though she flushed slightly.

"I heard Leonardo Torricelli's got a thing for you, you know."

Ella almost dropped her quill. "What?"

"Didn't you know?"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean," she sighed, "it's probably over now."

"Whatever do you mean?" Madhuri Lodi, another one of Ella's roommates approached from across the room. She, too, was rather pretty: she was tall, had short, curly hair, and a kind smile, and though many boys had shown an interest in her, she hadn't shown an interest back. Many thought she was simply frigid, but Ella knew the truth: boys just weren't Madhuri's cup of tea.

"Screwed it up," Ella said quietly.

At this, Becca let out a little squeak. "Ella, you numpty! You should have asked me for help! Of _course_ you wouldn't know how to deal with a boy, you're so…" she cocked her head, considering her roommate closely, "innocent. And I don't mean that as an insult, darling, it's just true."

"Thank you, Becca," Ella snapped.

Becca pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, as if to say 'someone's cranky'. She turned back to her mirror and began to expertly apply eyeliner.

"I'm sure you didn't," Madhuri reassured her. "Is this about what happened with Teddy yesterday?"

"Ooh, what happened with Lupin, Ella? He's _gorgeous_ , isn't he?"

Ella snorted at this. "He's my best friend, Becca. Or at least, he was. Nothing _happened_ , he's just an idiot, that's all."

"So it is about what happened with Teddy?" Madhuri repeated.

"How do you even know about that?"

"It wasn't exactly private."

"Right." Pause. "Yeah, it is...he's just an _idiot_ , getting into a fight like that and embarrassing me."

"But I heard that Terence -"

"I know," Ella said miserably, cutting Madhuri off. "But Gates has been saying stuff like that for _years_ , Teddy should know better than to react like that because that's exactly what Terence wants: a reaction."

Madhuri shook her head sadly. "Boys."

"Boys."

" _Boys_ ," Becca said, emphatically, "are wonderful. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going down to breakfast."

Ella and Madhuri watched as the brunette left their dormitory, humming happily as she walked down the steps that led to the common room.

"If it's any consolation," said Madhuri once she was sure Becca was out of range, "I heard Leo talking about you last night in the common room - he still likes you, you know."

"Then why didn't he come talk to me?"

Madhuri shrugged. "He was giving you space. I think you should talk to him."

Ella bit her lip. "Do you think so?"

"I do."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't tell you I did if I didn't."

Ella took Madhuri's advice and went to see Leonardo Torricelli, after making sure that her hair and make-up was impeccable. She wasn't quite sure whether she was going because Madhuri had convinced her, or whether she had simply been looking for an excuse to see him anyway, to attempt to explain why she had had to run away and to apologise for Teddy's behaviour. She really did like Leo, and she desperately wanted to salvage their relationship - if it could be salvaged.

The door to his dormitory was slightly ajar, and when she peeked around it, she saw him sitting alone on his bed, reading a book. His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, and his thick eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he read. Ella felt her stomach tingle, and she almost lost her nerve and tip-toed away.

 _No_.

Steeling her resolve, she knocked on the door. Leonardo looked up and they made awkward, silent eye-contact for a split second before his face broke out into a smile. "Ella."

"Leo," she said, by way of greeting. "May I come in?"

"Of course!" He slipped a bookmark into his novel and put it on his bedside table before hurriedly smoothing his bedcovers (which were not that messy to begin with). Ella smiled nervously and sat down next to him.

"I just wanted to talk to you," she said. "Is now a good time?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Everyone's out right now, they shouldn't be back for a while. You've got me all to yourself."

Ella felt her cheeks burn slightly, and she tried to breathe in deeply without attracting too much attention. "I just...well...I'm sorry about yesterday. It was all…" she gestured wildly "you know...a mess."

"Yeah, Gates and Lupin - not pretty."

"I'm just really sorry I had to run off like that. Teddy, well, he's my best friend, or at least he _was_ my best friend before he went and acted like a stupid, _idiotic_ hothead. I just couldn't really leave him there like that - I mean, yes, Victoire was there, but she can't deal with him alone, and…" She trailed off and sighed. "Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry."

Leonardo cocked his head to the side. "You're sorry for helping your friends?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes. I mean…" she sighed again. "I don't know."

He smiled at her. "You did the right thing, Ella. In your place, I'd have done exactly the same thing."

She couldn't help but be a little surprised; out of all the reactions she had envisioned, somehow understanding had not been one of them. "You would?"

"Yeah," he affirmed.

"So you don't mind what happened?"

"No. Although," he smiled at her cheekily, "that doesn't mean I'm not a little jealous."

"Jealous?" Ella was completely taken aback, and it must have shown because Leonardo laughed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you've got two best friends who are guys. It's only natural that I'm a little...well, jealous that they get to spend so much time with you, and that they know you so well."

"Oh, Leo." Ella looked at him adoringly. "You don't have to be jealous at all."

"That's good to hear."

There was silence for a few moments; Ella raised her eyes to meet Leonardo's and they stayed in the moment for a little while, locked in each other's gaze. She couldn't help but think about how horribly cliche the whole thing was, but at that very second, she couldn't care less.

She was the one who broke the silence. "So, are we… okay?"

"Yes," he said, reaching out so that his fingers lightly stroked her cheek. "We are."

Slowly, he leaned in. Ella's heart began to beat faster and faster until she could practically feel it hitting her eardrums. A million thoughts were running through her head - she'd envisioned this happening so many times, and yet here she was, clueless about what to do. She, too, began to lean forward and close the distance between them; her heart was moving from her chest to her mouth, it was all happening so fast.

And then, gently, their lips met.

.oOo.

 _III. Rumor has it_

In the days that passed, it became well-known around the school that Leonardo Torricelli and Ella Anderson were dating. They were often seen in each other's company; Ella had even shifted her seat in certain lessons so that instead of sitting with Alfie and Teddy, she was with her boyfriend. Teddy wasn't sure whether this was spurred by her relationship status, or by the fact that she was still refusing to talk to him.

It was quite disheartening. After Daisy Shipkins had burst into the Hufflepuff common room to tell them that Walter Hopkins had walked in on Ella and Leonardo kissing in the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory, Teddy had been sure that Ella would come to him and attempt to make up. After all, the only reason she'd really been mad was because she thought he'd ruined her chances with Leonardo, and that _clearly_ hadn't happened. When it became rather apparent that she was not going to approach him, he'd tried to go to her, but had been met with a staunch refusal to talk.

"I don't know what I can do," Teddy said to Alfie, as they sat in the Hufflepuff common room on Thursday evening, attempting to finish homework. Daisy Shipkins and Morna Clemmons sat nearby, chatting, while Matilda Goshawk was further away, her nose in a book. "Has she said anything to you?"

Despite the frosty atmosphere between Teddy and Ella, she was still talking to Alfie. The other Hufflepuff shook his head. "Nothing. I've tried to suggest that you two should make up, but you know Ella. If she doesn't want to talk about something, she won't. She's horribly stubborn that way."

Teddy rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to his Transfiguration textbooks. The problems he was completing were easy enough, and should have only taken him about twenty minutes, but he found himself completely unable to concentrate. He didn't like arguing with his friends; he didn't like any situation, really, where the equilibrium was disrupted.

Thankfully, he didn't have to concentrate much longer. The doorway leading into the Hufflepuff common room opened, and a loud " _ERGH!_ " came through it. Both Teddy and Alfie looked up to see a tall figure, with a bright red face that almost matched her hair. Laura Shipkins.

She was marching in their direction; Teddy and Alfie glanced quickly at Daisy, who looked just as confused as they did, if not more. "Laura," she said, getting up and leading her sister over to where they were all sitting by the arm, "what's going on? What happened?"

"You mean to ask _who_ happened," Laura spat, and it was all Teddy could do not to roll his eyes. _Of course_ \- there was only one person who could make Laura this mad. "That _slag,_ that total _bitch_ , that _freak of nature_ , that -"

"What did she do now?" Daisy asked, cutting her sister off.

"What did she do _now_? Let me _tell you what that bitch did_." The older girl rifled through her bag and pulled out a sheet of parchment that looked as if it had been repeatedly crumpled, torn in several places and thrown against a wall. "Macmillan wanted us all to do a project for Defence. Normal stuff, good practice for N.E.W.T.'s. I've been absolutely _swamped_ with work, so I handed mine in yesterday, instead of the day before when it was actually due. I wrote an explanation out and everything, and I even sent it home for Mum to sign beforehand, and I attached the explanation to the essay. Today, Macmillan walks in with the marked essays. He _failed_ me just because I didn't hand it in on time, and he refuses to give me any feedback!"

Teddy understood why Laura was angry; it would suck to have done an essay, only to find that the teacher was unwilling to correct it. But even he knew that Macmillan was a stickler for deadlines, and had a policy of automatically failing anyone who handed their work in late, without coming to him beforehand with a good reason. Laura should have gone and spoken to him before handing the project in. And most of all, Teddy failed to see how any of this had to do with Bella Watson.

Daisy seemed to be thinking the same thing, for she said, "But Laura, what did Bella Watson do?"

"I'm getting to it, Daisy," the older girl snapped, causing Daisy to recoil slightly. "That little _bitch_. I noticed that Macmillan didn't give her an essay back, so I tuned in to the conversation she was having with Macey Longstone. I have excellent hearing, you know. Anyway, she was talking to Macey and she said that she didn't even _hand in_ an essay. Apparently she'd gone to Macmillan before the deadline and asked him for an extension and he'd agreed."

"What?" Daisy shouted with outrage. "That's so unfair!"

"I know, right? Apparently she's got too much work, and he gave her an extension because of that. _Her_ essay's still going to get marked, even though it's late!"

Teddy didn't think that this was unfair; after all, Bella had actually gone to Macmillan before the deadline. But there was no point in saying anything, for Daisy and Laura were too angry to listen to anyone.

"It's her fault that she took on so much," Laura continued. "Who asked her to be Head Girl anyway? She could have said no when they asked her! She didn't have to go and try out for the Quidditch team! What is _wrong_ with her?"

"What's wrong with _Macmillan_?" Daisy exclaimed. "Doesn't he see how fundamentally unfair this whole situation is?"

"You know," Laura said, her mouth curling into a rather distasteful, sneaky smile. Teddy felt his heart drop slightly. Nothing good could possibly come of this. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was something going on between that Watson girl and Macmillan."

"Whatever do you mean?" Morna Clemmons, who had been silent until now, piped up.

"Don't be thick, Morna," Laura snapped. "You know exactly what I'm saying."

"You don't mean-"

"Of course I do!"

"But that's against the rules!"

"I know that!"

"But would the Head Girl break the rules?"

"She's not just Head Girl," Daisy interjected. "She's Bella Watson. I wouldn't put anything past that slag. For all we know, that's the reason _why_ she's Head Girl."

"I bet you it's true," Laura said, smugly. "I bet you it's been going on since last year. She's been spending all her time in his office. Every time she's late for something, it's because Professor Macmillan wanted her." She snorted loudly. "I bet you he wanted her for more than one thing!"

"What is she talking about?" Alfie whispered to Teddy. "Of course Bella's in his office, she has loads of Head Girl things to work out with him."

"You know, I was friends with Hattie Swindle," Laura said, referencing the former Slytherin Head Girl who had graduated last year, "and she didn't spend nearly as much time with Professor Slughorn as Bella does with Macmillan. It's so obvious, I don't know how no one else has caught onto it."

"Maybe no one wanted to say anything," Daisy reasoned. "Or maybe Bella and Macmillan have… you know, shut them up somehow."

"That's it!" Laura snapped her fingers. "Well, there's no way they're going to shut me up!" She stood up and put her hands on her hips, looking rather determined. "By the time this week is over - hell, by the time this _day_ is over - everyone in this castle will know that Bella Watson and Ernest Macmillan are _sleeping together_."

Alfie gasped loudly and clapped a hand over his mouth. Laura Shipkins ignored him. She wore a victorious expression as she marched out of the common room, undoubtedly to spread her rumour around the school.

Even Teddy couldn't believe his ears. Macmillan playing favourites was one thing (even though he highly doubted that this was the case), but an illicit relationship between a professor and a student? It was completely and utterly improbable. Especially with Bella Watson who, though she may be somewhat promiscuous, was an upstanding student, and Professor Macmillan, who would _never_ , in Teddy's opinion, break the rules.

Daisy Shipkins and Morna Clemmons began chatting excitably amongst themselves about the possibility of there being a relationship between Macmillan and Bella, coming up with instances in which they thought that it was apparent. Teddy was disgusted listening to them, and turned away to speak with Alfie, who was still in shock.

"Bella wouldn't," the muggleborn said firmly. "She wouldn't do something like that. She follows the rules. She sets an example. She wouldn't do something that could get her into that much trouble."

"She wouldn't," Teddy agreed. "You know that, I know that, the entire _school_ probably knows that."

"But Laura's telling them otherwise!" There was a great deal of fear in Alfie's eyes. "She's out there right now, telling people that Bella and Professor Macmillan are … are … you _know_."

Teddy looked over his shoulder to make sure that Daisy was still occupied (she was), and then said to Alfie, in a low voice, "Yeah, but no one's going to believe her."

"Won't they?"

"Think about it logically, Alfie," he continued, trying to ignore the fact that he sounded so much like Ella at that very moment. "She's Laura Shipkins, and she's spreading a rumour about Bella Watson. Everyone knows they hate each other."

"True."

"So why would they believe Laura? They'll just think she's making it up!"

"I hope you're right," Alfie said.

"Believe me, I am," Teddy said, absolutely confident in his opinion.

"I hope you are, too," a quiet voice said, causing both Teddy and Alfie to look up. Matilda Goshawk had gotten up from where she had been sitting, and knelt down beside them, book in hand. "A rumour like that could be really dangerous."

"What do you mean?" enquired Alfie.

Matilda shrugged. "I don't know the exact rules, of course, but a relationship between a professor and a student wouldn't be allowed. I can't see McGonagall being thrilled about it. If people took the rumour seriously and started to believe it, Macmillan would be fired, and Bella would be stripped of her Head Girl badge. I wouldn't be surprised if they took her off the Quidditch team as well."

"You're kidding." Alfie's mouth dropped. "Someone's got to tell Laura and stop her!"

Despite the gravity of it all, Teddy snorted. " _You're_ the one who must be kidding if you think that'll stop Laura. If anything, it'll make her spread the rumour even faster."

Matilda nodded solemnly. "All we can do is hope that the Hogwarts student body is smart enough not to believe anything Laura Shipkins says."

.oOo.

 _IV. As it is meant to be (part two)_

Riley Carrow hated letters.

Sure, they were good for staying in touch with people, but they simply couldn't replace a face-to-face conversation. There was so much that wasn't said in a letter, so many things that _couldn't_ be said. Things could be misinterpreted, lost in a myriad of words, or censored and deliberately left out in a way that the immediacy of normal speech did not allow for. The written word, she strongly believed, was an inferior means of communication, and given the choice, she would much rather speak with her parents using the Floo network. At least then there was some kind of emotion behind the words.

But alas, the Slytherin common room did not have multiple fireplaces, and she didn't particularly want others to overhear her conversations. Not that she said anything meaningful in her letters; they were mostly fictionalised, or heavily edited accounts of her day-to-day life. She updated her parents on her grades, assured them that she was getting along well with her friends, and told them that she was enjoying herself. There was no point in worrying them more than they already were. Her mother had been on edge after Riley's slight breakdown at the station, and it took a lot of convincing before she finally left her daughter alone.

Her parents knew about the bullying, but they weren't aware that it was continuing. It had been particularly bad in Riley's first years at Hogwarts - That Incident in First Year was still occasionally brought up in family conversations, and Riley assured them that there was nothing to worry about, that nothing like that had happened again.

It was true that nothing that serious had recurred, but that didn't mean that all the little jabs and taunts that she was subjected to on at least a weekly basis didn't hurt.

But she hadn't told her parents, and as long as she stayed out of serious trouble, they would never find out.

Sighing, she ran her finger across the top of the envelope that Talos, her owl, had dropped off at breakfast. She had shoved it into her bag, intending to open it later, and had promptly forgotten about it. It was only now that she remembered. It fell out of her bag when she emptied it of books and notes after the last class of the week.

Tearing the envelope open, she extracted the parchment inside. It was thick, and at the top the Carrow family crest was embossed in gold lettering.

She began to read the words written below:

 _Our dearest Riley,_

 _We are glad to hear that you are enjoying your time at Hogwarts. To think, you didn't want to go back! You are such a brave, intelligent girl, and we are sure that this year will be even more wonderful for you than the last._

Doubtful, Riley thought, but she kept reading.

 _By now, we have no doubt that you will have heard of the incident in Hogsmeade. Your father & I were very worried about your safety and security, but Professor McGonagall has assured us that Hogwarts is, and will remain secure against all potential external threats. There is no reason to believe otherwise. You are safe where you are, darling, so please know that you have nothing to fear._

 _Even so, this is a particularly trying time for the entire wizarding community. We are all being watched closely, darling, and any misstep could have dire consequences. The Ministry is definitely on edge; time passes, and yet both children remain lost. We know that you must be in the dark regarding most of the outside world (after all, Hogwarts is much like a bubble), but your father and I agree that you must be kept well-informed. Your father's sources at the Ministry say that there is no intention of acquiescing to the demand, and perhaps this is the correct choice - who knows what kind of message it would send if our government gave in to the threats of an anonymous, belligerent group? We can only hope with all our hearts that this does not endanger the lives of those two young girls any further._

 _We thank our stars everyday, Riley, that we know where you are, and that you will be back with us come Christmas. This is a trying time for all of us, and you will need support: we cannot be there just now, so we urge you to keep your friends close. You never know when you will need them._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Mum and Dad._

It took her a long time to put the letter away.

Instead, she sat on her bed, staring at it, re-reading it, letting the words sink into her brain. She was vaguely aware of noises around her - people walking up and down the stairs outside her room, faint traces of conversation and laughter emanating from the common room - but she wasn't paying attention.

 _Keep your friends close_.

How ironic, considering she'd pushed the only friend she really had away.

It was almost a week since she had fought with Victoire, and the two girls had not spoken since. Victoire had wordlessly switched her seat in all the classes that she and Riley shared, and Riley had taken to sitting at the Slytherin table during meals, instead of at the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff table with Victoire, Teddy, Alfie and Ella.

A memory sprung into her mind, unbidden, of Alfie in a meadow, listening intently as she spoke without holding back. She immediately repressed it. It had been a mistake. Alfie hadn't spoken to her since, though not due to want of trying. She had actively avoided him, embarrassed that she had poured out her feelings like that. It just...wasn't what she did.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

Her parents had been right. This was a most trying time for all of wizardkind, and no matter what came next, she was going to need friends. She was going to need Victoire.

And, though she didn't really want to admit it, she missed her best friend. She missed laughing with her in classes, she missed seeing Victoire wait for her outside the common room in the morning, she missed talking to her.

So, before she could change her mind, Riley Carrow got up from her bed, grabbed her bag, and left in search of Victoire Weasley.

It didn't take her long to find her. She was barely three minutes from the Slytherin common room when she bumped into the Gryffindor. Victoire's blonde hair was looking more ruffled than usual, and her brow was creased in an uncharacteristic mixture of worry and stress. She blinked a couple of times at Riley, as if unable to believe that it was really her, and the Slytherin swallowed, sure that the other girl was going to walk away as though she hadn't seen her.

Therefore, she was rather surprised when Victoire said, "I was looking for you."

"You were?" replied Riley, unable to hide her surprise.

The blonde nodded. "Can we talk?"

"Here?" The brunette glanced around. Several groups of students were close by, and she wanted to keep her conversation with Victoire private. There was no need to give people more to gossip about; she already felt as if she was watched and whispered about wherever she went.

Victoire followed her gaze. "No," she said, shaking her head, "I suppose not."

Both girls hesitated for a few seconds before Riley said: "The courtyard?"

Victoire shrugged. "Sure."

The walk was short, but awkward. Both girls remained in complete silence; Riley didn't have the motivation to make small talk. She was too preoccupied with trying to ready her nerve. Apologising wasn't something she was used to doing, and she knew that it was going to take a lot to get the words out. She almost balked when they sat down in the courtyard, but her parents words flashed through her mind again, and she remembered that she had to do this for her own good.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Victoire beat her to it. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Riley blinked a few times; she had not been expecting an apology.

"I'm sorry," the blonde repeated. "I...I've been thinking about it, and I was unfair to you. You're going through so much, Riles, people are saying all sorts of things, and being completely horrible. As your best friend, I should be understanding and supportive, not selfish."

"You weren't being selfish," Riley murmured.

"Yes I was! I was putting my needs above yours in a situation where you should come first. I've never experienced what you're going through, but it must be awful, and I should understand that."

"And I should tell you what's going on, so that you get a better understanding."

Victoire hesitated. "You don't have to."

"But I should," Riley said, firmly. "Listen, I know that I've not been the best of friends either. Just because I'm going through a hard time doesn't mean that I should completely ice you out."

"But -"

"No, Vic, you can't take all the blame." She felt more confident now. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I need to tell you exactly what's been going on."

And so she did. She started at the very beginning - from the boy in the carriage - and continued all the way up to the present. She told Victoire about Tabitha James, about their first interview and about how she'd confronted her in Hogsmeade. Victoire's mouth fell open, and her face turned very red as she clenched her fists in anger. "That little _bitch_ ," she exclaimed. "I thought she was an Auror! Aurors are supposed to be fair, not...not... _ugh_."

"She was probably just doing her job," Riley said miserably.

"No! You can't _justify_ her behaviour like that." The Gryffindor was shaking with anger. "How can you say that? How could _she_ say things like that and just...get away with it? You have to tell McGonagall, Riley. She can't keep going on like this! Who knows what else she's said to other people? How can she be trusted with such an important case if she's biased and prejudiced?"

"We can't go to McGonagall," said Riley, quickly.

"What? Why not?"

She shrugged. "What could she do?"

" _What could she_ \- oh, I don't know, how about _fire Tabitha_?"

"Yeah, but what good will that do? Tabitha will go, and another Auror will come in, and they'll be just like her. They'll say the same things, believe in the same prejudices...there's not going to be any difference."

Victoire was silent for a few seconds. "Not all Aurors are bad, you know," she said quietly.

"No, but they're hardened. They've seen things, and those things have changed them. I don't blame them." I _don't blame anyone who doesn't trust me_.

"But -"

"Vic," she said, "just leave it alone. Tabitha's horrible, yes, but hopefully she'll solve this case and leave us all alone soon enough. If she's fired, the Auror office will just have to start again, and it'll take that much longer."

Victoire chewed on her bottom lip. "You're sure about this?"

"Certain."

"And we're friends again?"

Despite herself, Riley smiled. "Yes," she said. "Yes, of course."

Victoire squealed and hugged the Slytherin. "I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too," Riley whispered back.

.oOo.

 _V. Every action_

Monday came, and with it, a new edition of the _Daily Prophet_. The thick, black lettering of the headline was visible from across the Great Hall: _Minister refuses to acquiesce to the Hogsmeade demands_.

Teddy and Alfie poured over the article; neither of them got the _Prophet_ delivered, though Teddy was seriously considering asking his grandmother for his own subscription, and therefore they had to borrow a copy from Giovanna Downing. Written by Mary Ryman, the article detailed the busy weekend of talks at the Ministry that had culminated in Minister Shacklebolt's decision to refuse the Hogsmeade demands, as the messages pasted on the windows had become known.

"Well, I think it's the right thing to do," Victoire said, putting the copy of the newspaper that she had been sharing with Riley, who was now sitting with them again, down. "Can you imagine what would have happened if they'd said yes? Removing all muggleborns from their positions… Auntie Hermione would've been fired, and she's the best of all those idiots in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"You don't actually know anyone else in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Teddy pointed out.

Victoire glared at him. "Are you disagreeing with me?"

Teddy shook his head quickly. Aunt Hermione, as she insisted he call her, was probably the smartest person he knew. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that the Ministry of Magic would be much worse off without her.

"I don't know," Alfie said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Teddy turned to his best friend questioningly. "You read the article, the Ministry would look weak if they gave in to the demands of some random, unnamed person."

"Only it's not just a random person, is it?" Alfie chewed his lip doubtfully as he folded the newspaper up and handed it back to Giovanna Downing, who was listening to their conversation rather intently. "This person has both Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles, and they said that they'd keep them alive if the Ministry agreed to their terms. And now, the Ministry's said no." He paused before adding, "What do you think's going to happen to them?"

"The Ministry wouldn't have made this decision unless they were sure that Melissa and Leslie wouldn't be hurt," Teddy said staunchly. "The demand said it was the first, right? That means that they need to keep Melissa and Leslie alive if they're to have any leverage against the Ministry."

"Yeah," Giovanna spoke up, "but that doesn't mean they can't hurt them. Or… kill one as a warning and leave the other alive as leverage."

At this, Alfie visibly shuddered. Teddy didn't know how to respond. He shook his head, and said, "They must have considered everything," but with much less confidence than before. Giovanna's words had shaken him.

"They don't even know they're dealing with," she pointed out. "How can they consider everything when they know nothing about the person, or the people who are behind all of this?"

"I'm scared," Alfie mumbled.

"We all are," she said. "That's what these people, whoever they are, are doing the best: they're instilling fear. Everyone's scared that another kid will be taken, that something will happen to the kids who've already been taken - no one knows anything, and that's the worst."

Teddy, who had never spoken to Giovanna about anything serious before, was mildly impressed by her eloquence. She clearly had an opinion about the whole situation - unexpected, considering her status as a core member of Daisy Shipkins' clique. Teddy wasn't even sure whether Daisy Shipkins was _aware_ of the latest developments in the kidnappings; after all, the ginger was hardly interested unless it had something to do with her, her sister, or Bella Watson.

As if on cue, Daisy leaned over to grab a bunch of grapes from in front of Alfie and said, "Oh, would you stop being so morbid, Gi? All you do all day is talk about those girls and and what's going to happen now, and whether the wizarding world will ever be the same again." She rolled her eyes dramatically, popping a grape into her mouth.

"Well, the kidnappings have shaken us all to our core, Daise," Giovanna reasoned. "Of course I'm interested in them."

"Have they, though?" Daisy said, eyebrow raised.

"Of course they have," Teddy chipped in. "Haven't you read the _Daily Prophet_ recently? Mary Ryman said in her column last week that there hasn't been such fear in the air since the Second Wizarding War."

Daisy waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not talking about people like that journalist. I mean _us_. They haven't shaken _us_ because they don't concern us."

Teddy struggled to keep his shock from showing on his face.

"What do you mean?" Giovanna asked incredulously. "Of _course_ they do, Daisy, we go to school with Leslie Stiles! We would've gone to school with Melissa Cooper."

"Yeah, but Leslie was in a different year and house."

"That doesn't matter!"

"Um, yeah." Daisy gave Giovanna a pointed look. "It kind of does."

"What if it wasn't Leslie? What if it was… oh, I don't know, Alfie!"

"Hey!" Alfie gave Giovanna an offended look.

"Sorry, just using you as an example."

"Look, Giovanna." Daisy leaned forward in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her. Her expression was one of exasperation, as if she was being forced to deal with an obstinate toddler. "I understand that you're upset about this. We're all sad about Leslie Stiles and Melissa Carver."

"Cooper."

"Cooper, whatever, that's what I meant. But it's not for us to worry about. The Aurors are here for a reason, the Ministry exists for a reason. It's their job to figure out what's going on and why, and to arrest the people behind it. I just don't see why _we_ should be getting worked up over it."

Giovanna looked at Daisy, her eyes hard. Teddy thought for a moment that she was going to shout at her, but the brunette sighed and threw up her hands in a sign of defeat. "I give up," she said. "You're hopeless, Daisy."

Teddy silently agreed.

.oOo.

 _VI. Has an equal reaction_

Tabitha James was woken up at three AM on Tuesday morning by a loud knocking on her bedroom door.

She wasn't a heavy sleeper. Auror training had taught her that she could be called on at any time of the night, and she had to be ready to spring into action. She had been awoken at all hours of the night by her instructors, testing to see whether she was able to work as effectively on few hours of sleep as she was after a full night's rest.

As she did with all the others, she passed the test with flying colours.

The problem with Hogwarts, she thought, as she pulled herself to her feet, was the doors. They were large and wooden, and the knocks echoed off the walls, contributing to the pounding inside her head. She slipped her feet into a pair of bedroom slippers, and wrapped her dressing gown around her waist.

"I'm coming!" she shouted, but the knocking continued incessantly; whoever it was obviously hadn't heard her.

She reached the door and pulled it open. Immediately, she felt her stomach sink slightly; bile burned the back of her throat, and she blinked several times to be sure that she wasn't just dreaming, that this wasn't just some kind of nightmare.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, knowing that the answer could not be good.

"Picking you up," said Gawain Robards, her boss and head of the Auror department. His dark hair was messy, as if he hadn't had time to comb it, and his face was unshaven. His jaw was set, giving him a look of determination, and his voice was grim. Robards was hard to read emotionally, but after years of working under him, Tabitha could tell how he was feeling, and she knew that there was something wrong. He wouldn't be here unless there was something wrong.

Sure enough, her suspicions were soon confirmed. "We have a situation," he said. "I'm recalling you and Auror Munroe back to London, effective immediately. Let's go, James."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews, faves, and follows! I'm afraid I've been crazy busy travelling, so haven't had time to get back to all of you - hopefully I'll be able to do so within the next few days. This chapter was relatively short (as compared to the monster that is Chapter Six), but I enjoyed writing it! The next chapter is entitled London and is also a monster. It'll be with you in two weeks, on Wednesday the 24th of August!

Also, I just want to give a quick shoutout to my amazing, amazing beta, brianna-xox. Thank you so much - without you, this story wouldn't be what it is now.


	8. Chapter 8: London

**Chapter Eight: London**

 _I: Under their noses_

Two hours before Tabitha James was recalled to the Ministry of Magic, trouble was already beginning to brew in London. Ashton Anderson, however, was completely oblivious.

The Andersons lived in South Kensington, an affluent neighbourhood in one of London's richest boroughs. Anyone looking in from the outside would be justified in believing that Ashton and Ella Anderson had been brought up in luxury, and perhaps they had. They lived in a beautiful, semi-detached house, with more space than they knew what to do with; they went to the best schools; they socialised in circles that were best described as elite. Ashton had always been told that the world was at his feet, and yet he still felt indescribably alien.

It was difficult, knowing that the world you truly wanted to be in was simultaneously so close you could taste it and out of reach. For no matter what Ashton Anderson did, he would never, ever, have the magic that his sister had.

His parents tried to help him forget about it. They rarely discussed magic in the house, or mentioned Hogwarts by name. Even Ella tried to avoid mentioning magic in her regular letters to him, taking care to write them using paper and pen rather than parchment and quill. Ashton appreciated the effort, but he felt like it did nothing more than remind him of who he would never be.

It was this that he was dwelling on that night. He was sitting at his desk, a splendid piece of carpentry made out of solid wood. It was positioned by the large window that faced the front of the house; the curtains were tightly drawn, to prevent anyone passing by from looking in. The Andersons' were nothing if not private, although Ashton didn't think that there was anything really to see, for he was just working on a history essay that was due the next day. It was all so _dull_ , he thought. What did he care about Greek gods for? It wasn't as if he believed in them, or if they were even relevant in today's world. He was good at schoolwork, and yet he disliked it terribly. He would have given anything at that moment to be told that Hogwarts had made a mistake, that he really belonged there. He would ditch his schoolbooks in an instant, giving up history and English and maths for Charms, Potions and Transfiguration.

But there was no chance. There was never going to be any chance.

Sighing, he returned to his books. Just one more paragraph, he told himself. All he had to do was write one more paragraph and hand it in. He knew he'd get high marks anyway. His teachers always said that he was a good student, if not a little lazy. If only he contributed more in class, if only he did a bit of extra reading, if only he showed more motivation. What was the use in any of this, when he knew there was more out there, more than this dull, dreary, _muggle_ existence?

 _Crash_.

What was that?

Ashton pushed his chair back with his feet, and got up. He knew he hadn't imagined it; there was most definitely a sound, and it seemed to be coming from outside. Tentatively, his fingers ran across the crinkled velvet of his curtains, and he pulled them back ever-so-slightly. Peeking out over the darkness below, he saw the edge of his mother's favourite turquoise pot. His brow crinkled in confusion; there was no wind, and he couldn't see anything that could have overturned it. It couldn't have possibly been a stray cat, for the pot was simply too heavy.

His curiosity not satiated, he moved towards his door, and opened it quietly, careful not to wake his parents, who were sleeping in a room down the corridor. He tip-toed across the carpet to one of the guest rooms, and entered it, making straight for the windows, where he pulled the curtains aside. It had a much better view of the front garden than his own room, and he was able to see the overturned pot in its' entirety. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure slip down the driveway and out of the gates, left slightly ajar. Ashton's mouth fell open in a mixture of shock and fear. Who could this mysterious intruder be? And, perhaps more importantly, what did he or she want?

It was then that he noticed the front door. Though unable to see it, he noticed an odd glow emanating from the vicinity; a pale green light had filtered through the nearby air, faintly illuminating the front yard in the same way that the carved pumpkins Ashton loved did during Hallowe'en. He felt his stomach turn anxiously and he was on the verge of opening the balcony door to investigate further when he felt a pair of strong hands grip his shoulders and pull him firmly back.

He almost screamed, but caught sight of the person behind him and let out a sigh of relief when he recognised the features. "You scared me, Rajiv _bhaiya_."

Rajiv Kumar, the Anderson's butler (of sorts), let go of Ashton's shoulder. He was a tall man, with heavy eyebrows and dark eyes. Many years older than both Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, he had been with the matriarch's family for long before Ashton was born. Age showed through the folds on his face, and yet he still possessed a youthfulness about his demeanour. Ashton loved him: he was a constant companion, a trusted figure and friend who had always been there when his parents had been working late at the office. Yet there was something about the severity of Rajiv's expression that filled Ashton with a great deal of trepidation.

"What are you doing out of bed, _chotu_?" Rajiv asked. He had called Ashton _chotu_ , or small boy, ever since he was a baby, and though Ashton protested that he was grown up now, the older man maintained that he would always be a baby to him.

Ashton shuffled. "I heard a crash."

"Mm," Rajiv said, "so did I."

"There was someone out there! I saw them moving around."

Rajiv nodded, as if this was not new information. "The protection charms were breached."

"Then why aren't you out there catching whoever broke in? You have the ability to." He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice, but some escaped nevertheless.

"Because the protection charms around _your_ room were breached when you decided to investigate." He paused before adding: "My greatest priority is your safety."

Ashton immediately felt guilt, heavy and caustic, settle in his stomach. To think that the intruder had gotten away because of him! "Sorry."

"At least you're not hurt."

"No. But," he pointed to the window, "there's something weird outside. There's an odd… glow."

"Glow?" Rajiv's heavy eyebrows furrowed, so that it seemed almost as if they were touching his eyes.

"Glow."

"Stay here."

Ashton watched as Rajiv stepped forward, and pulled a wand out of his robes. He'd seen the elegant oak stick so many times, and yet it never failed to make his breath catch in his throat, to make his entire body yearn with desire for the magic that he would never have. Pushing the golden curtains aside, the elder man unlocked the door to the balcony and opened it. The crisp London air rushed inside, tickling Ashton's nose, before the curtains fell in front of the door, blocking it off.

It was several moments before Rajiv re-entered, and when he did, Ashton received the fright of his life. In all his thirteen years, he had seen Rajiv angry, stern, happy, surprised, reprimanding...but never before had he seen him panicked.

"Go wake your parents, _chotu_ ," he said. "Tell them that they need to call the Ministry of Magic immediately."

.oOo.

 _II: Morning shocks_

 _Knock, knock, knock_.

The clock on her bedside table read 5:47 AM.

What _even_?

 _Knock, knock, knock_.

"For Merlin's sake, Becca," Ella Anderson grumbled, turning over so that she was facing away from the door to her dormitory, and pulling her pillow over her ears, "if that's one of your boyfriends -"

"I don't _have_ any boyfriends," came an angry, muffled shout from across the room. "I broke up with all of them."

"All of them?" If her voice was anything to go by, Madhuri Lodi's interest was piqued. Rochelle Williams, who slept in the bed next to Ella's, sat up out of curiosity, as if waiting expectantly for Becca Dillion to divulge vulgar details.

"All of them." Nothing further.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

"Then who's at the door?"

"Beats me."

"Can someone just open it already?" Ella whined. She had been having a particularly nice dream involving her, Leonardo Torricelli, a bookstore, and a plate of chocolates. The knocking had come at a rather inopportune moment when she had just been about to sample a particularly inviting hazelnut praline. Needless to say, all she wanted was to go back to sleep. "Madhuri?"

"Becca?"

"Ella's closest to the door," Becca pointed out.

Ella groaned. "Rochelle, you're sitting up, you go."

Rochelle, a pudgy dirty blonde with striking blue eyes that were (sadly) hidden behind thick purple glasses, pouted at Ella. "You're just lazy."

 _Knock, knock, knock._

" _Go_ ," Ella moaned, pulling the covers over her head. If this incessant sound didn't end, she'd never get back to sleep, and she'd never get to sample that hazelnut praline.

Rochelle groaned, but she threw her duvet back and got out of bed, trudging barefoot across the dorm until she reached the door. She pulled it backwards, heaving slightly, for the door was large and Rochelle was not a strong girl, and gasped when she saw who was on the other side. "Professor Flitwick! What are you doing here? Are we in trouble?"

This was enough to make Ella creep out from beneath her covers. Though he may be the head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick had never popped into the Ravenclaw dormitory this early in the morning. In fact, he never made casual visits to their dormitory at all. Something was wrong; she knew something was wrong the moment she saw Professor Flitwick's face. The small man was known for being jovial; his twinkling eyes and whiskered smile were perhaps his most loved attributes, and yet today he looked different. His eyebrows were furrowed, his forehead was crinkled, and the shine had gone out of his eyes.

A million things began to run through Ella's head: Leslie Stiles had been found dead; someone related to one of her roommates had been kidnapped; something had happened to Ashton or her parents.

 _Please_ , she thought desperately, _anything but that_.

Her stomach dropped, however, when after reassuring Rochelle that they were not in trouble, Professor Flitwick turned to face her. They made eye contact for a few nerve-wracking seconds before the Charms teacher spoke. "Miss Anderson," he said softly, "I'm going to need you to come with me."

Ella was acutely aware of Rochelle, Madhuri and Becca staring at her. Suddenly feeling very cold, she climbed out of bed and put on her furry bedroom slippers. "I'm not dressed," she said.

"It doesn't matter, Ella," Flitwick said, and Ella felt her heart turn to ice. She'd known Filius Flitwick for five years. He'd seen her grow from an anxious, quiet eleven-year-old into who she was today; he'd guided her to getting one hundred and thirteen percent in her fourth-year Charms final; he'd met with her at the beginning and end of each term, as he did with all Ravenclaws, and yet never before had he called her by her first name.

Something was wrong.

"Do any of us need to come, too?" Becca asked tentatively.

Flitwick shook his head. "No, Miss Dillion, you may all go back to sleep."

"Fat chance of that," she mumbled. If Flitwick heard her, he pretended not to.

"Miss Anderson," he said, turning back to Ella, who hadn't moved an inch, "we need to go."

"Yes," she said absent-mindedly, barely able to think over the pounding of her heart, "yes of course. I'll… follow you out."

Flitwick directed Ella to the common room and told her to wait there until he came down. As she walked down the stairs, she cast a glance over her shoulder. He was heading towards the sixth-year girls' dormitory.

She was not the only one in the common room; a collection of students, all in their pajamas, were huddled by the fireplace. Confusion settled over Ella, for there was no instantly discernible connection between the others. Both boys and girls were present, and they were from a number of year groups. A first-year girl sat in a corner, tightly clutching a worn-looking teddy bear, while a couple of seventh-years clustered together, whispering. She noticed Walter Hopkins, a muggleborn boy in her year, sitting slightly away from the group, and walked over to join him.

He smiled at her by way of greeting. "You don't know why we're here, do you?"

Ella shook her head. "Flitwick didn't say. You don't -"

"No. Same thing, he didn't say. Bit mean of him, really, dragging us out of bed at this hour and not telling us what for." He grinned, and Ella forced herself to grin back despite not feeling like it at all. Her stomach was flip-flopping in a most unpleasant manner, quite unlike the way it did when she was with Leonardo. She kept dreaming up horrible things that might have occurred to warrant such an awakening, and though she tried her best to suppress them, grotesque images of her parents and Ashton, injured grievously, kept popping into her mind.

The problems of an overactive imagination.

It wasn't long before Flitwick returned with three other girls senior to Ella. He motioned for everyone to follow him, and the group obliged, leaving the common room. They walked silently through the empty Hogwarts corridors, ignoring the stares and whispers of the portraits. Ella thought they must look rather odd; a ragtag group of Ravenclaws in their nightclothes with unbrushed hair and flushed faces.

When they reached the second floor, Ella realised with a start where they were going. She hadn't been this way often - only a few times, really, when she had been accompanying Teddy after he'd gone and gotten himself into trouble. Despite everything, a flash of anger ran through her. Although it had been a little more than a week, and everything in terms of her relationship with Leonardo had worked out fine, she still hadn't forgiven Teddy for his rash behaviour during the Hogsmeade trip. Alfie had tried to convince her to give in, but she had refused. Ella Anderson was many things, and though she would not admit it publicly, stubborn was most certainly one of them.

But she didn't want to think about Teddy, not now. People began to whisper anxiously as Flitwick stopped in front of the large gargoyle that led to the Headmistress' office and Ella felt her hands begin to sweat nervously. Nothing good could come of this; a trip to McGonagall's office this early in the morning could only mean bad news.

Flitwick clearly stated the password, and the gargoyle began to move. Many of the younger students gasped in awe. Ella had seen it before, and took the opportunity to survey the group around her again. She had the feeling that she was missing a simple, obvious connection, and as she climbed the stairs, she began to note the people around her. What did she know about them? She knew that Walter Hopkins was a muggleborn, and especially good at Transfiguration. She knew that Millie Duncan, a girl in the year below her, was on the Quidditch team and was also exceptionally good at Transfiguration, but she sincerely doubted that McGonagall wanted to see them at six AM to discuss Transfiguration. Plus, Oliver Kitt, a sixth-year who was also present, had failed his Transfiguration O.W.L. She didn't know much else about him, except that he was a Prefect, and that he lived near her in London.

 _Wait. That was it_.

Millie Duncan lived in Camden - she remembered seeing and talking to her on a day trip to Camden Market. Walter Hopkins was always going on about how Croyden was in London, despite Ella's insistence that south London was really only on the margins of things and should be designated a suburb, if anything. They all lived in London.

But so did Becca Dillion, and _she_ wasn't here. But Becca was a half-blood, and Millie, Walter and Oliver were all…

 _Muggleborns_.

It hit her with the force of a bludger. Everyone around her was a muggleborn.

But she, Ella Anderson, was not.

The waiting room outside McGonagall's office had students scattered around it, all in their pajamas and all looking very lost. Professors Longbottom, Macmillan and Klossy stood near the middle, their worry clearly visible on their faces. Ella assumed that they had all brought the appropriate members of their houses to the Headmistress' office, but had told them nothing.

As Flitwick joined the other Heads, the door to McGonagall's office opened. The room quietened down instantly, and each and every gaze focused on the elderly Headmistress who, despite the hour, was impeccably dressed and showed no signs of tiredness. It was time for some answers.

"Thank you all for coming," McGonagall said, her voice quiet yet stern. "I'm sorry to have to wake you so early, but I'm afraid that a situation has developed. There is no need to panic; no one has been hurt, but it is important that you all listen very closely to what I have to say."

Ella let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in, and leaned back against one of McGonagall's cream-coloured sofas. Her parents were fine, Ashton was fine. No one was hurt. But evidently, everything was not okay.

"Earlier this morning," McGonagall continued, "the Ministry of Magic received reports from several of your houses, and upon further investigation, discovered that an incident had taken place at all of your households. Once again, I must stress that your families are fine, and we do not know what this all means yet." She paused briefly, before saying, "The dark mark has been magically imposed on each of your doors."

There was an audible gasp, and many of the children began to whisper amongst themselves. Ella could hear the panic, the fear in their voices; she herself was taken aback and had to steady herself by placing her hand on the top of the sofa. The dark mark at her house? It was all her nightmares, her mother's nightmares coming true. The dark mark was a symbol of all they dreaded, the forces that believed that Ella's mother and brother were disgraceful, that Ella herself was likely a freak of nature who should not have been allowed into Hogwarts. The dark mark was a threat.

"I must urge you not to panic," McGonagall said firmly. "The Ministry is investigating. Auror James and Auror Munroe have been recalled to London; the entire Auror force is working on this case. Protective units have been assigned to your families, and they will ensure that no harm will come to them."

"Why us?" a Gryffindor second-year called out in a small voice. "Why only us?"

McGonagall sighed. "Truthfully, we do not know, but two connections are apparent. You are all muggleborns, and you all live in London. That appears to be why, but once again, we do not know. I, and your Heads of House will endeavour to keep you informed as soon as we learn of new information."

There was a heavy silence, before she continued, "And now, I must ask you to all go back to your rooms. Write to your families, take the time that you need to process what has happened. But do not panic, and do not fear. That is what they want."

Many of the students hesitated, as if they were unwilling to leave, but the Heads of Houses guided them out. Ella hovered for a few seconds, and when Professor Flitwick came to tell her that she needed to leave, she begged to stay for a little longer. "I need to ask Professor McGonagall something," she said. "It's… important."

Flitwick nodded, and left her. When the office was empty, Ella approached Professor McGonagall tentatively.

"What can I do for you, Miss Anderson?" the Headmistress asked, glancing at Ella over her glasses.

All of a sudden, Ella felt as if she was eleven years old again, being called into the Headmistress' office with no idea why. She quickly regained her nerve, and said, "I just wanted to ask, Professor… you said that we were targeted because we were muggleborns, but -"

"Ah," said McGonagall. "But you -"

"Aren't," Ella finished. "So why my family?"

"Miss Anderson, I'm afraid I am unable to provide an answer that is more than mere speculation."

"Speculation will do," Ella said quickly. "Please."

"Very well," agreed the Headmistress, "but it is not to be repeated."

"Understood."

"We are unaware of how the perpetrators got hold of their information. Currently, it seems as if there was a leak in Hogwarts or Ministry intelligence regarding wizards registered at each address. Those that had a single wizard under seventeen residing at that location appear to have been targeted. Would I be correct in assuming that you are the only magical being at your residence?"

"No!" Ella exclaimed. "My mother, she'd be on the register, wouldn't she? I don't know about my brother, but my mum should be." Rajiv was there as well, but she knew that he was registered as residing at the small house next to theirs, for that was where his official home was.

"No, Miss Anderson," McGonagall said softly. "Squibs are not registered as magical beings. Neither are their children, unless, like you, they show magical ability. And I believe I am correct when I say that your brother does not show magical prowess?"

"Yes, you are correct," Ella replied in a small voice. "So what you're saying is that to whoever's behind this, I appear to be a muggleborn."

"I'm afraid so." McGonagall clasped her hands in front of her.

"And if they knew I was the daughter of a … a …" She couldn't bring herself to say it, for it was a word that they did not use, that they consciously avoided.

"I cannot say whether you would be more or less of a target. We know very little about whoever is orchestrating these attacks, Miss Anderson. We don't even know whether the people behind the events of this morning are those who have Miss Stiles and Miss Cooper."

Ella nodded silently, unsure of how to respond. She'd never thought herself safe, but she'd never been forced to confront the idea of herself as a target before. It was terrifying.

She left Professor McGonagall's office a few minutes later feeling shaken to her core. The Headmistress had tried to reassure her that she was fine, that she was safe, that no harm would come to her or her family, but Ella wondered how she could be so sure in a time of such uncertainty. Nothing was guaranteed, anything could happen, and it scared her.

She found herself in the middle of the corridor, unsure of where to go. Her mind was a complete mess; she didn't want to go back to her common room, where her roommates would immediately pounce on her, wanting desperately to know what was going on. She wanted to talk to someone who would understand, who would be able to help her sort things out in her head and come to terms with what was going on. She thought of Leonardo, but dismissed the idea quickly. He was lovely, he really was, but he just wouldn't get it - the Torricelli's were purebloods.

That left Alfie and Teddy. Alfie was a muggleborn, he'd understand it. Teddy was the son of a werewolf, and had lost his parents to the war. He'd empathise too. Whenever she had any kind of problem, she had always gone to Alfie and Teddy to help her solve it. They were, after all, her best friends.

But of course she had had to go and have that _stupid_ argument with Teddy.

It all seemed so idiotic now. She'd yelled at him for embarrassing her, she'd alienated him, and now, when she needed him the most, she had nowhere to turn.

In that split second, she suddenly felt utterly and completely alone.

The argument had gone on too long, she thought to herself. It was time that it ended, that she ended it. Whatever was going on out there in the world was much more important than some stupid grudge she was stubbornly clinging to. She needed to stop being so stubborn.

And so, at seven thirty, when Alfie and Teddy left the Hufflepuff common room for breakfast, they were surprised to see Ella Anderson waiting outside.

.oOo.

 _III: Reparations_

"I need to speak with you."

Teddy stared at Ella, somewhat unbelievingly. It had been days since she'd spoken to him, days since she'd even been this close to him. He had half a mind to walk straight past her, but there was something odd about the way she looked at him. Ella Anderson was the kind of girl who did not usually wear her emotions on her face, and yet she stood in front of him now, her eyes red, her face flushed and her hands shaking ever-so-slightly.

There was something going on.

"I'm listening," he said, folding his arms. Alfie glanced at both of them nervously.

"I…" Ella faltered. "I'm sorry."

"Why now?"

"Because something's happened."

"Of course." He felt bitter; she was only apologising because she realised that she needed him.

"No, Teddy, you don't understand," she pressed on. "I'm not only apologising because something's happened. I'm really sorry. It was completely unfair of me to lash out at you for attacking Terence. I mean, you shouldn't have attacked Terence, that was completely stupid and you clearly didn't think but -"

"Ella," Alfie warned.

"Sorry," she said. "What I meant to say was, you had your reasons, and I shouldn't have stayed mad at you like this for so long. I'm sorry."

Teddy bit his lip. "Why now?"

"Something's happened, something bad." She took a deep breath, and slowly began to tell them about everything she had learned and experienced, from the moment that Flitwick had knocked on her door, to her last words in Professor McGonagall's office. Alfie and Teddy were the only two people at Hogwarts, with the exception of the teachers, who knew her blood-status and odd family history; others simply assumed that she was a half-blood.

Teddy listened, hardly able to believe his ears. He had been worried that there might be some sort of retaliation to the Ministry's refusal to give in to the demands of the kidnappers, but this? It seemed crazy to think that the belligerents had so much detailed information that they could target every single muggleborn in London, right under the Ministry's nose. And poor, poor Ella. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to have your family targeted like that.

"I just didn't know where to go," Ella concluded, her voice thick as if she was trying to hold back tears. "I wanted to talk to both of you so badly, but then I remembered that we were fighting, Teddy, and I just felt so _awful_." She broke off as the tears she'd been trying to restrain began to flow. "I'm so sorry. Please...forgive me."

Teddy and Alfie both stepped forward to comfort the brunette, wrapping their arms around her. "Of course I forgive you," Teddy whispered into Ella's hair. "Of course I do."

"We're both always here for you," said Alfie.

She sobbed silently into their robes.

.oOo.

 _IV: Wildfire_

It took Ella a while to recover. She got permission from Professor Flitwick to skip classes that day, and Teddy and Alfie covered for her with the other students, saying that she was feeling unwell. It wasn't long, however, before everyone knew about the incident in London. Tabitha James and Angus Munroe were missing during meals, and rumours began to circulate that they'd been recalled to London. Many of the muggleborns who had been called to McGonagall's office had told their friends about what had happened, who had then told their friends, and so forth.

It was all over the school within twenty-four hours.

Teddy noticed when Ella returned that she was a little more subdued than normal for a few days. No one really spoke to her about what had happened, for few outside of Teddy, Alfie and Leonardo Torricelli knew that she'd been targeted. After all, Ella was not a muggleborn, and most people thought she was a half-blood, well out of harm's way. When it surfaced that one or two half-bloods had been targeted, people began to ask questions, but Ella quietly avoided the subject. Teddy understood that she did not want people to get suspicious, and he and Alfie took it upon themselves to be with her at all times and deflect any questions.

Slowly, over the next week, the shock died down and things returned to normal - or rather, as normal as they could be. People were still on edge, and certain topics were discussed more frequently than usual, but Ella was back to her usual smiling self, and that was really all that mattered to Teddy. She'd spoken to her parents and her brother, and was satisfied that they really were fine.

She was animatedly telling them about how her brother had gotten into trouble for drawing a rather rude symbol on a whiteboard in school when his teacher was outside during Potions. Teddy and Alfie listened intently, laughing at Ashton's silliness.

"He'd be a Gryffindor, for sure," Teddy suggested. "Only Gryffindor's can do things like that."

Ella grinned. "He certainly wouldn't be a Ravenclaw, what with the interest he shows in his work. He's good at it though."

"Just like you then," Alfie beamed.

"Yeah, but I show interest in my work. I love Potions."

"That's good to hear," came a voice from behind the trio. Teddy jumped, but managed not to spill the chopped rat's tails in his hands into his potion. Alfie, however, was not so lucky.

"Mr. Hayes, you must resolve your clumsiness if you wish to do well in your final exams," Smith said, taking his wand out and swiftly correct Alfie's mistakes.

Alfie blushed. "Sorry, Professor."

"Don't be sorry, Mr. Hayes. We'll just have to find a solution."

Ella glanced inside her Potions bag. "Drat. I'm out of serpent horns. I'll have to go to the storeroom - Teddy, can you watch my potion?"

"Don't worry, Miss Anderson," the professor said. "I'm about to go to the storeroom in any case; I can get some for you."

"Oh, Professor, I wouldn't want to be burdensome."

"Nonsense. What with the week you've had, it's the least I can do."

"How nice of him," Teddy said, as Smith left the dungeon.

Ella nodded. "He's a nice guy. Good teacher."

"He's not _just_ a good teacher," exclaimed Daisy Shipkins from a nearby bench. "He's _dreamy_."

"Here we go again," Teddy whispered.

"If he wasn't a teacher, I'd snap that up immediately," the redhead said.

"I don't see why him being a teacher should stop you," Becca Dillion, who was sitting at the bench next to Daisy's, said cheekily. "After all, it didn't stop Bella Watson and Professor Macmillan, did it?"

At this, Alfie gasped. "What?"

"Oh, come off it, Hayes, you have to have heard!" said Becca. "Bella Watson and Professor Macmillan. They're _going out_."

"And probably doing more than just that," Daisy whispered, though it was loud enough for everyone at the surrounding tables to hear.

Teddy was about to say that it was just a silly rumour, but was stopped by Professor Smith's re-entrance. Everyone quickly returned to their potions, pretending to be hard at work. The professor dropped Ella's serpent horns off, and then resumed surveying the class, helping out where required. Alfie turned to Teddy and Ella and said worriedly, "People don't believe what the Shipkins sisters are saying about Bella and Professor Macmillan, do they? It's just something stupid that Laura Shipkins made up because she's jealous."

Ella bit her lip, as if debating whether to say anything. When Alfie and Teddy gave her an expectant look, she said, "Well… I've heard things circulating."

"You can't possibly -"

"I never said I believed the rumours, I just said that I've heard them going around, that's all."

"You're clever," Teddy said. "You wouldn't believe them."

"No, but a lot of people _are_ believing them. Laura Shipkins might be a jealous you-know-what, but she also has a lot of friends. And she's known for knowing a lot about Hogwarts and what goes on in it. People believe her."

"Then they're idiots."

Ella opened her mouth to respond, but Professor Smith decided that they had all been talking far too much, and needed to focus on their work. It was another half an hour before Potions ended, and they could chat freely again. They left the dungeon with Becca, Madhuri Lodi and Rochelle Williams, who were chatting animatedly about Bella and Macmillan.

"They're just so cute," Becca sighed. "Both so blonde and gorgeous."

"Can you imagine what their children would look like?" Rochelle said, a wicked grin on her face.

"Come _on_ guys," Alfie said desperately. "You can't possibly believe that Bella Watson, our wonderful, beautiful, fabulous -"

"We get it."

"- Head Girl would date a professor?"

"Well, Macmillan's not that much older than us," Madhuri pointed out.

"And he's _gorgeous_ ," Becca said, batting her eyelashes. "If you ignore the slightly large ears, that is."

"I think it's unlikely," Teddy added. "It's just a stupid rumour. Laura Shipkins made it up because she's jealous of Bella."

"Oh, we know Laura's jealous of Bella," Rochelle said. "But I heard this from someone else."

"Who?"

"Alfred Cattermole."

" _What_?" Ella, Alfie and Teddy exclaimed in unison. "The Head Boy?"

"Well, he didn't say they were going out or sleeping together, or anything in that many words. But you know that he and Bella were seeing each other at the beginning of the year?"

"No, actually," Alfie said stiffly. Teddy suppressed a giggle; Alfie never liked the people who Bella dated.

"Oh? Well, they were, everyone knew that."

"I knew that," Ella supplied helpfully.

"Alfred's really good friends with my brother, and apparently he told him that he and Bella had broken up weeks ago because - and you're not going to believe _this_ \- he thought Bella was cheating on him! She denied it, of course, but he thought it was really obvious. And he said that she spent so much time with Macmillan."

"Yeah, but he didn't say that she was cheating with Macmillan," Alfie pointed out.

Rochelle glared at him. "Logic, Hayes, logic."

"What does she mean?" he asked Ella.

"She means that the most logical conclusion is that Bella cheated on Cattermole with Macmillan."

"That's flawed logic!"

"No, it's not," Madhuri Lodi said.

"There's a reason you're not in Ravenclaw, Alfie," said Becca haughtily.

Alfie turned very red and mumbled something under his breath. Teddy glared at Becca. "You don't need to be rude."

Becca shrugged. "I'm just saying, he can't see it because he's got a crush on Bella."

"No, I don't!" Alfie said indignantly.

"Come off it, Hayes, it's obvious."

"It is," Ella whispered, and Alfie glared at her.

"You're not helping right now," he said.

"Bella spends all her time with Macmillan. I'm not even in her _house_ and I can see that. Look," she pointed, "there they are now."

Sure enough, the tall, blonde Head Girl was standing outside the door to Professor Macmillan's office. She was holding a stack of large Defense Against the Dark Arts books, and was leaning on the wall while chatting to the professor, who stood in the doorframe. The Ravenclaw girls, much to Teddy's embarrassment, began to giggle and shush each other loudly, not removing their gaze from Bella and Macmillan. A gaggle of Gryffindors nearby were staring at the proposed couple, whispering.

Teddy glanced at Alfie and Ella. "This can't be good."

.oOo.

 _V. Standing up_

"Teddy," Matilda Goshawk asked, approaching him in the common room one evening before dinner, "you wouldn't happen to have the updated fifth-year patrol schedule, would you?"

Teddy glanced up from his Astronomy homework, grateful for the distraction. He and Alfie had been working on it for the better part of an hour, unable to make heads or tails of it. If only they had Ella - but the Ravenclaw was having tea with Leonardo Torricelli, and had given them strict instructions that she was not to be interrupted under any circumstances.

"Even if Teddy attacks Terence?" Alfie had said, laughing at his own joke. He'd sobered immediately when Teddy and Ella had glared at him and muttered, "Not funny," in unison.

"Sorry," Teddy replied to Matilda, shaking his head. "Bella and Cattermole haven't confirmed mine and Ella's yet, so I didn't get a new one."

"Drat," Matilda sighed, collapsing on a sofa near the boys. "I got mine yesterday, but I can't find it for the life of me. The worst part is that I know that I've got patrol either today or tomorrow, but I don't know which one, and I don't know where. I'm always losing things."

"Where's your badge?" Alfie asked rather bluntly. Teddy, who hadn't noticed that Matilda wasn't wearing her Prefect badge, glanced quickly at the point just above the chest pocket of her robes, where Matilda usually wore the little golden pin. Surely enough, it was missing.

Matilda flushed very red. "Like I said, I'm always losing things," she muttered, but Teddy noticed that she didn't quite meet his or Alfie's eyes.

"Mat," he said gently, "Daisy took it again, didn't she?"

"What? Why would you think that?" Matilda feigned wide-eyed surprise.

"You're not a very good liar," he pointed out.

She bit her lip nervously. "Fair."

"So she took it?" Alfie confirmed.

"I can't be certain -"

"She took it."

"Who else could it have been? I knew I kept it on my bedside table with the patrol schedule, but when I came back after lunch, it was gone."

"Why did you take it off in the first place?"

"The pin at the back got bent, I needed to get it fixed before I lost it. I was worried about it falling off, so I didn't even think about where I was putting it. I should have put it in a drawer or something, I should have _known_ Daisy would pull a stunt like this. I'm just so-"

"Hey," Teddy interjected quickly. "This isn't your fault. Daisy's just jealous that you're a prefect and she's not. It's not fair on you at all. Honestly," he paused for a second before continuing, deciding that it was about time that Matilda heard what they'd all been thinking for a very long time, "I don't know why you're still friends with her."

"Because she's _Daisy_ ," Matilda sighed. She stressed the name in a way very different from, say, how Alfie spoke about Bella. There was no trickle of admiration or affection - just fatigue and a twinge of trepidation. "Have you tried going up against her?"

Teddy hesitated. "No," he admitted.

"But Ella has," Alfie added, "and she's just fine. Well, she's still got that barmy obsession with books, but you know what I mean."

"True." The brunette fiddled with a loose thread on her robes. "I wish I was more assertive. That I stood up for myself more."

"But you can be," Teddy said comfortingly, thinking he was quite one to talk, considering his history of standing up for himself in front of Terence Gates. "You don't need to be rude, or mean, or get into a fight, or anything like that. You just need to be firm and strong and say that you're not going to take any of Daisy's nonsense anymore."

"Right," Matilda said, sounding rather shaky. "I need to be firm."

"Exactly."

"And strong." Still more hesitant than confident.

"Exactly!" Alfie exclaimed, a massive grin spreading across his face. "That's it!"

She smiled nervously. "A-and tell her I'm not going to take her nonsense anymore."

"Precisely," Teddy said, giving her a thumbs up.

"Oh, and look," Alfie said, glancing towards the entrance to the common room, "you can start right now!"

"What?" Matilda looked up, terrified.

Surely enough, Daisy Shipkins had pranced into the common room with Giovanna Downing and Morna Clemmons, as though she was a queen entering her throne room, her ladies-in-waiting behind her. She looked completely and utterly ridiculous to Teddy; unfortunately for him, few others seemed to share his view. Daisy was greeted by a number of third and fourth year girls, all of whom seemed to look up to her as the epitome of social standing.

"Not _now_ ," Matilda turned to the boys, horror evident in her eyes. "I can't just go up to her now."

"Then when?" Teddy asked

"Not _now_." She lowered her voice as the girls approached them and sat down on the collection of armchairs nearby. Teddy noticed Daisy use her foot to shift the angle of one slightly, so that when she sat on it, she was not facing inwards, but rather slightly outwards. He wasn't quite sure what the utility of such a movement could be until she began to speak.

"I feel so invigorated," she said loudly, her voice traveling outside her little circle to reach Teddy, Alfie and Matilda's ears. "Like I could stay up much longer than curfew. If only I was a _Prefect_ , I'd be able to."

"Really?" Morna Clemmons asked blankly.

"Yes, Morna, they go patrolling around."

"That's allowed?"

"Well, they can only go on specific nights and there's a _schedule_." She glanced at Matilda.

"Go on," Teddy whispered to a shivering Matilda. "What further evidence do you need that she's got it? Go ask for it back!"

"If you don't have the schedule," Daisy continued, "my, my, you'd probably get into all sorts of trouble. Neglecting your duties, getting caught by Knobbles - and we all know that Knobbles doesn't like students out of bed. What did he do to you last year, Morna, sentence you to -"

"Cleaning out the trophy room twice a week for a whole month," Morna said, shuddering. "it wasn't all bad, but he kept pitting me against whoever was in there with me, saying that whoever cleaned the most trophies would have their punishment lifted."

"And you?"

"Always lost. I had to do six weeks instead of a month because he thought I hadn't learned anything."

"My, that sounds awful," Daisy said, placing a hand over her heart in faux-sympathy. "I would _hate_ to be in that kind of position if I got the day of my patrol wrong! I suppose it's a good thing I'm not a Prefect."

She paused, and Teddy had a sinking feeling that she was building up to something bad.

He wasn't disappointed.

"It's just, well, the badge looks so good on me, doesn't it?" Slowly and dramatically, she lifted her long ginger locks and flipped them over her shoulder. The small badge on her chest pocket caught the light, sending golden glows across the room.

Teddy and Alfie gasped in unison. Of all the nerve - only Daisy Shipkins could be so brazen, could so obviously taunt poor Matilda. And Matilda Goshawk was the kind of girl who would take it, Teddy thought, as he glanced at the mousy brunette. She wasn't one for confrontation; she was too desperate to remain in Daisy's good books. He felt his heart go out to her, because he knew that no matter what, she wouldn't stand up for himself.

Teddy Lupin thought himself a good judge of character and he was most of the time. But today, he had severely underestimated Matilda Goshawk.

Perhaps it was the conversation they had just had. Perhaps Daisy had taken it a step too far. Perhaps she was just sick of staying silent and complacent. But Matilda Goshawk got up from her seat and marched over to Daisy Shipkins, her mouth taut. She thrust her hand out and said, "Give it back, Daisy." Her voice was commanding, almost demanding - Teddy was taken aback, for it was a tone that he had never heard from Matilda. Michael, yes, for the Slytherin often felt entitled to things and was determined to get them no matter what, but Matilda was always so quiet, so accepting of whatever life threw her way. It was the first time that he had seen a shadow of her brother in her.

Morna Clemmons and Giovanna Downing stared at Matilda, shocked. Daisy seemed to express similar sentiments, but recovered quickly. "Give what back?"

"My badge."

"How do you know it's your badge?" Daisy asked innocently.

"I'm sick of this, Daisy!" Matilda exclaimed, the pitch of her voice lilting upwards. "Give it back!"

"It's not yours!"

" _Yes, it is_ ," Matilda replied. She hesitated for a moment, and then added, "I'm not going to take any more of your nonsense."

" _My_ nonsense?"

"You're… you're jealous!"

Morna Clemmons gasped.

"I am _not_ jealous," Daisy exclaimed, though her face was starting to colour. "Why would I be jealous of you?"

"Because I'm a Prefect and you're not. You know something, I worked really, really hard for four years. I got good marks in every class, and maybe I'm not as popular as you are, but I like to think that I'm a nice person. I have good friends," she glanced at Teddy and Alfie, and Teddy felt his heart warm slightly, "and I don't resort to silly pranks. Maybe if you'd done the same, you'd have gotten Prefect."

Alfie let out a low whistle. "Go, Mat. I didn't realise she had it in her."

"Neither did I," Teddy whispered, watching his fellow Prefect incredulously. Was this the same Matilda Goshawk who'd been so afraid of Daisy Shipkins when she'd walked into the room? Or had some sort of spirit taken over her body?

"I'm so _done_ with you, Matilda!" Daisy shrieked, getting to her feet. Teddy thought he saw Matilda shake slightly, but she held her ground.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You… you…" The ginger was absolutely furious. "You can't accuse me of all those things!"

"Daise -" Giovanna interrupted, but Daisy held up a hand to shush her.

"You think you're so _brave_ just because you're a Goshawk. Well, let me tell you something. There's a reason you're not a Gryffindor. You're a coward. In _five years_ , you've never stood up to me. _Five years_. Why? Because you don't have the guts. You're the kind of little girl who doesn't stand up to anyone because you're too scared of alienating them."

"No, Daisy, it's because we were friends."

"Friends? We were _never_ friends."

"Really? What do you call all the things I did for you?"

"You did nothing for me!" Daisy Shipkins screamed; it was almost as if she wasn't aware that she was lying. "You've done nothing for anyone but yourself. You pretend to be such an innocent little student, _so_ perfect, _so_ wonderful. You pretend like you've never done anything wrong, but you're no better than that _slag Bella Watson_ \- manipulating everyone so that they see things your way, and making sure that you pull me down."

"That's not true!"

"Daisy -" Giovanna tried again. No luck.

"Really?" Daisy said, her eyes narrowing maliciously. "Then why is it that Michael, your own _twin_ , can't even stand to be in the same room as you?"

Matilda stiffened, but didn't say anything.

"Hit a nerve, have I?"

"You know nothing about Michael."

"Daisy, that's enough!" Teddy and Giovanna Downing exclaimed in unison, both jumping up at the same time. Teddy glanced at Giovanna, surprised; he'd never seen her stand up to Daisy before. In fact, she'd always been the quiet one in the trio. And yet now she looked incredibly angry, her dark eyes burning with fire, and her hands clenched into fists.

"Stop," she said. "Leave Matilda alone."

"You can't possibly be standing up for her," Daisy rounded on Giovanna.

"I am."

"You know what this means."

"I do."

"Do you though?"

"I do," Giovanna repeated through gritted teeth.

Daisy walked over to Giovanna, coming very, very close to her. "You don't want to do this, Gi."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're wrong about Matilda, and she's right about you. She's done nothing to you, except become Prefect. And guess what - she deserved it."

"You're out." Daisy's voice was cold, almost expressionless.

"Glad to hear it," Giovanna said icily. "I don't want to be friends with the likes of you anyway." She turned to Matilda, who was watching the scene with incredulity, and said kindly, "Let's go, Mat."

Matilda nodded silently, linked arms with Giovanna and left the room. Before they reached the door, however, she turned around and glanced back at Teddy and Alfie. Their eyes met, and she mouthed, "Thank you."

"I'm going to my room!" Daisy Shipkins announced angrily, before storming off. Morna Clemmons followed her, and soon, Teddy and Alfie were the only two fifth-years remaining in the Common Room.

"Well…" Alfie said slowly. "I know I'm not good at Divination, but _boy_ did I not see that coming."

Teddy nodded in reply, though he said nothing. He'd never seen Matilda show such strength of character before - come to think of it, he'd never seen Giovanna Downing show any kind of strength of character either. They'd both surprised him pleasantly - he was glad that Matilda had finally learned to stand up for herself, and he was pleased that Giovanna had gone against Daisy to stand up for Matilda. He could only hope that she would continue to be a good friend to her.

After all, he thought, what with everything going on, friends were more important than ever.

.oOo.

 _VI. Love?_

Alfie Hayes was exhausted.

He'd been in the library since dinner time, which felt like hours ago, working steadfastly on his Herbology project. It was due in two days time, and Alfie was determined to do well on it. Professor Longbottom was one of the only teachers who ever showed a general interest in Alfie; many of the others passed him over, for he was not as intelligent as Ella or Teddy, but he was not dull either. He was merely … average.

And no one ever looked twice at average.

Alfie Hayes was a hard worker, but no matter what he did, he never seemed to be able to get the grades that his friends did. Still, he wasn't about to give up. He was determined to one day be as good a student as he was a Quidditch player, though he knew it wouldn't come easily. He had to start small, and work steadily. It would fall into place some day.

He left the library when it closed, shoving his books into his bag and leaving the suffocating, silent space with the few other students who had been working well into the night. If only the library would stay open just a little bit longer, he would have been able to finish the chapter he'd been reading on the proposed healing effects of Class I magical plants.

A familiar voice interrupted his train of thought. "Alfie?"

Bella Watson was walking towards him, her pink lips curved upwards in a delicate, angelic smile. Her golden hair was almost iridescent in the dimmed corridors. To him, she looked like she'd stepped out of one of the portraits on the wall, a masterpiece come to life.

It took him a few moments, before he managed to say, "Hi, Bella." Without thinking, he added, "What are you doing here?". He immediately regretted it. Did he sound too accusatory? He didn't mean to imply that she shouldn't be there - after all, she had as much right to roam the corridors between the Hufflepuff common room and the library as he did. It wasn't even as if it was past curfew. Oh goodness, she didn't hate him now, did she?

His fears were put to rest when Bella, instead of being furious, simply smiled and shrugged. "Same as you, I suppose. Library?"

"Oh," he said, letting out a relieved laugh. "Yeah."

"I have a massive Potions project due tomorrow," she explained, "and I wanted to make sure that it was perfect. Smith's really ... well, he's very strict, and I want to do well in my N.E.W.T.s so I figured better safe than sorry and -" she continued on, practically ranting about her Potions project and the distant final exams. Alfie tried his best to hide his surprise, though he was afraid that he wasn't all that successful. Bella Watson was always so well-spoken; she chose each word with care, and created sentences that, to Alfie, sounded as if they might have come from novels or poems composed by the kind of authors studied at Oxford. It was odd to hear her ramble in such an uncharacteristic manner.

"Sorry," said Bella, noticing that Alfie's eyes had glazed over slightly. "I was going on, wasn't I?"

"N-no," Alfie stuttered, "of course not! You -" he broke off when she gave him a meaningful look, and sighed. "Alright, just a little bit."

"Sorry," she repeated. "I've been doing a lot of that lately."

"Is everything alright?" Alfie asked, attempting to sound compassionate and trustworthy.

Bella bit her lip. "Not really." She glanced over her shoulder and, once satisfied that no one else was around, said, "Alfie, can I ask you something?"

"Of course!' Alfie exclaimed, rather loudly. "Anything."

"And you won't repeat it to anyone?"

"Of course not," he replied staunchly, feeling a bit of a rush go up his spine. Though he considered Bella a friend, they'd never had the kind of relationship where she confided in him, where she came to him for advice (if this was what this was - he was fully aware that she might want to ask something trite, like when the next Quidditch practice was). He was thrilled that she felt like she could trust him.

"It's just," she hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, "well, there have been some...things that I've been hearing lately, and I just wanted to know whether I was imagining them. I mean, obviously, I wasn't imagining them, but you know when you hear something and then suddenly you start hearing it everywhere even though it's really not that big of a deal?" Alfie nodded, and she continued, "I just wanted to know whether I was blowing stuff out of proportion."

"Anything you need, Bella," Alfie said. He did not need to try to make his tone earnest; he would do anything for Bella Watson.

She paused for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying, very quickly, "Are people talking about me and Professor Macmillan?"

Of all the things she could have asked him, this was the one that Alfie had not been expecting. He would have been less surprised if she'd asked him about Professor Smith's past as a tango dancer. Not that Professor Smith had a past as a tango dancer. "What do you mean?"

"Me and Professor Macmillan," she repeated. "In a relationship. Are people talking? About that? It's just, well, I've heard rumors, and - " she trailed off uncertainly.

Alfie's mouth opened and closed like a fish but no sound came out. His silence spoke volumes.

"Alfie -"

"Are you and Macmillan...you know, are you?" Alfie said at last, not sure whether he really wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, Merlin, no!" Bella looked shocked, and Alfie felt a wave of relief rush over him. "I would never...he would never, goodness gracious, absolutely not! But I've heard things, and I just wanted to see whether it was just my year talking about it, or whether you've heard things too."

Alfie hesitated.

"Don't lie to me, please," she said softly, her voice pleading. "I came to you because I thought you'd tell me the truth."

"Yes," Alfie said quietly. "People have been talking."

"A lot of people?"

"A lot of people."

He watched closely as her face fell ever so slightly. She maintained a great deal of control over her facial displays of emotion, but there was something about the way the light went out of her eyes, the way her mouth curved down at the edges, that made him feel awful for doing this (albeit, indirectly) to her. He hated being the bearer of bad news, of being the one to confirm her fears. Yet how could he lie to Bella Watson?

"That Laura Shipkins," she said through gritted teeth, "has gone too far this time."

"She has," Alfie agreed.

"This could be really damaging, not just for me, but for Macmillan." Her face suddenly turned white. "Oh, Merlin, what if he already knows about the rumors? What if he thinks I'm the one spreading them? Oh, Merlin!"

She looked as if she was about to collapse. Alfie rushes to her side, ready to steady her if she needed it, though he was acutely aware that she was a few inches taller than he was.

"Hey," he said softly, "hey, it's alright. People are talking, yeah, but I don't think they believe what they're saying, not really. They know you and they know that you'd never break the rules like that."

She nodded uncertainly. "Do you really think so, Alfie?"

"Of course," Alfie replied, smiling at her. "You're wonderful, Bella, and everyone knows it."

Colour returned to her face. "You're too sweet, Alfie."

He blushed. "It's the least I can do."

They stood in silence for a few moments, each contemplating their own, unique situations. It was Alfie who spoke eventually: "Do you want to go back to the common room now?"

She shook her head. "I need a little more time before I have to face Laura Shipkins."

"Okay." He stood, waiting.

"Alone," she said, not rudely or abruptly, but pointedly all the same.

"Oh!" He flushed. "Right, well, I'll just...go. You know."

He began to walk in the direction of the common room when she called out to him. "Alfie?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Thank you."

It was a cold night, not unusual for Scotland at that time of the year, and yet he felt a deep-seated warmth fill his body, radiating from his core to his peripheries. His mouth curved upwards in a small smile that was almost invisible in the low light. "Anytime."

Alfie Hayes had never been in love, but at that very moment, he thought he was.

In truth, though his love for Bella Watson was undeniably present, it was similar to the love that Ella had for her favourite authors, that Teddy had for his favourite singers. He did not realize it, but to him, Bella Watson wasn't as much an actual flesh-and-blood person with flaws and weaknesses as she was an ideal.

Alfie Hayes thought he was in love, but really, he wasn't.

(But try telling him that).

.oOo.

 _VII. Confessional_

Ella Anderson sat alone in her dormitory, reading a letter from home.

It had arrived earlier that morning, but she had saved it, waiting anxiously for the moment when she was able to slip away from dinner early and hide away in her dormitory. She didn't like reading her mail in front of people, for she always felt self-conscious. Humans were, after all, naturally curious beings. When with others, she felt as if had no privacy because they were watching her, trying to figure out what was going on with her, what she was all about. And she hated it. Some things needed to remain private.

The letter was from her brother. In many ways, it was like every letter that he wrote. He went on about his friends, his schoolwork and their parents in a nonchalant, somewhat uncaring way, but Ella could read between the lines. She could see the effort that he had put into carefully modulating his tone, she could tell that he'd chosen each word with care.

She could tell that Ashton had been more shaken by the dark mark on their front door than he would admit to her. And she hated it. She hated that she couldn't be there to comfort him, because she was everything he wasn't. She hated that she was the one with magic, while he, who wanted it so badly, was confined to the muggle world.

Ella loved magic with all her heart, and yet she would have given it all up in a split second if it meant that she could keep her brother safe and happy.

Tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. Biting her lip, she folded the letter up, and held it in her hands. There was still over a month before she would see her brother and her parents again, and she missed them terribly. Ella had always been an independent sort of person, but in the face of imminent danger, homesickness overwhelmed her.

She, too, had been more affected by the incident with the dark mark than she let on. It was the twenty-eighth of October, two weeks after she had been called into McGonagall's office, and yet she still hadn't recovered. Ella Anderson rarely let people see her emotions (after all, some things needed to remain private), and even when she did, she always attempted to downplay them. Emotions were, in some ways, weaknesses; they were weapons that could be used against you.

Her family was a weapon that could be used against her.

Her family was a target.

She bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood, but was unable to stop the tears. They flowed freely her cheeks as she wept in silent anguish.

"Ella?"

She looked up and was horrified to see Leonardo Torricelli standing by the door. Quickly, she wiped her face with the backs of her hands and forced herself to smile at him.

He wasn't falling for it. "Ella, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied quickly. "I'm fine. Just...not feeling well."

"You left early from dinner," he said awkwardly, coming to sit next to her on her bed. "I was worried, so Becca gave me this." He held up a tiny silver key that Ella recognised instantly. It was an object unique to Ravenclaws- each and every one of them had one that they could give to someone to allow them temporary access to their dormitory, regardless of gender. "It's a good thing I did."

"I'm fine, Leo, really, I am."

"No you're not," he said softly. Ella didn't make eye contact. "Ella, it's fine to be upset. You've been through a hell of a time lately, what with what happened in London. It's so horrible, your family being targeted like that, especially since you're not even muggleborn. I mean, it's so random."

He broke off, for Ella had burst into tears again.

"Ella," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to his chest. "Ella, what did I say? Whatever it was, I'm sorry."

She mumbled something inaudible.

"Ella?"

"I said it's not random," she choked between sobs. "It wasn't random at all."

Leonardo looked at her, brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, love, but I'm confused."

"It wasn't random," she repeated.

"But you're not-"

"No, but I might as well be!" She took a deep breath, and then said, "My mum's a squib, Leo. So's my brother. And … and … he shouldn't be. _I_ should be. I'd be happy in the muggle world, but he isn't. All he wanted - all he _wants_ \- is magic, and here I am with it and it's putting them all in danger!"

Leonardo was silent for a moment, before he said, "Does anyone else know?"

Ella nodded. "Teddy and Alfie. No one else."

He hesitated, and Ella felt a shot of fear run through her. Would he think less of her now that he knew the truth?

"I don't know what to say," he admitted at last. "It wasn't your fault, Ella. None of this is your fault."

"But I have magic and he doesn't!" Ella said, disregarding the fact that she was not being logical at all.

"Yes," Leonardo said calmly, "but… listen. My mum says that everything happens for a reason. Everything. From births to deaths to every little moment in between. If your brother isn't magical, it might be because he's destined to do great things in the muggle world. If you're magical, it might be because you're destined to do great things in _our_ world. What those things are, I don't know, but I do know that you're one of the most amazing, intelligent, beautiful and kind witches that I've ever met, and that without you, the wizarding world would not be the same."

Ella stared at him, dumbfounded. She knew (though she did not want to admit it) that he was exaggerating - she most certainly was not as beautiful as people like Becca Dillion or Bella Watson, she wasn't as naturally intelligent as Teddy, nor was she as kind as Matilda Goshawk. She most certainly was not the kind of person that the wizarding world could not do without, for she had contributed nothing of significance to it. But at times like this, it was nice to hear that someone had faith in her.

"I love you," she said, without thinking.

Leonardo smiled at her and pulled her closer. "It's all going to be okay," he said. "I promise."

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it - it's definitely one of my favourites so far. Apologies for the lack of Riley and Victoire - there was a Riley scene that was supposed to go into this chapter, but had to be shifted into the next because of length, so do not fret!

I'd love to know what your favourite scene in this is (I have a soft spot for the first scene with Ashton and the scene with Matilda)!

As usual, there'll be an update in two weeks (Wednesday 7th September), so see you then!


	9. Chapter 9: The Dam

**Chapter Nine: The Dam**

 _I: Office Dynamics_

The calendar on Tabitha James' desk read October the thirty-first.

It sat there in front of her cheekily, taunting her. She couldn't look up without the solid black letters glaring at her, laughing at her, reminding her that time waited for no one, not even Tabitha James. Combined with the stack of documents and piles of notebooks that surrounded her, it reminded her that the clock was ticking on, and she had made no progress.

It had been three weeks since London, and they had no leads. It had been even longer since the kidnappings, and they had no leads, for none had panned out.

It was Hallowe'en and yet there were still a smattering of people around the Auror office. Their job was unique in that they had no set hours - sure, the Ministry told them that they had to be in the office on certain days for a certain number of hours, but life as an Auror could not be constrained to a schedule. It required a degree of flexibility, for it was impossible to predict when their services would be needed. They couldn't just not apprehend a criminal because it was a holiday.

Still, there weren't enough Aurors present. The office might be full when compared to, say, the Department of Registration, but it was nothing in comparison to how it had looked after London, when every single Auror in the country had been recalled, pulled away from their work and put on the case. The entire team except Robards had been under Tabitha's command, and she had directed them as needed. But as time waned on, she began to lose people to different cases and projects until she was left with only a few select others, and finally, until she was left with only Munroe.

It wasn't that the case wasn't still considered important - Robards frequently told her that it was the most vital one they had - but there were simply not enough Aurors to go around. They had the entirety of wizarding Britain to protect, and not enough resources to do it. She was simply unable to monopolize the time and attention of her colleagues when they had their own cases to attend to.

In their defense, it wasn't as if they weren't enthusiastic about helping. Harry Potter, for instance, had protested being taken off the kidnappings, telling Robards that he would work on it alongside his own projects. Robards had refused. Potter was better out on the streets than he was in the office; his wandwork was "alright", but his research skills were weak. Tabitha agreed that his investigative skills were somewhat lacking (most modern magical histories that she'd read agreed that it was Hermione Granger who had really been the brains of the trio that had taken down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, even if it was Potter who got all the credit), but he more than made up for it with his abilities in battle. She'd seen him in action and he was something, that was for sure; possibly the best fighter in the office. He had a great ability to think on his feet. Though she wouldn't admit it, she was somewhat envious.

It wasn't as if his prowess did him any good, though. He might not make it known, but Robards had a low opinion of the famous Harry Potter - he'd frequently expressed his disdain for "that poster boy" to Tabitha, and it was clear to anyone who made it a point of observing the dynamics of the Auror office that Potter's potential was somewhat underused. It wasn't as if he wasn't given significant cases, but Tabitha was of the opinion that they were perhaps too simple for him. It was obvious to her that Robards felt threatened by Potter, who was admired by most of the department for his heroics and humbleness, despite his fame.

She wasn't about to actually tell either Potter or Robards this, though. She was firmly against fluffing up anyone's ego, and she needed to stay on Robards' good side, or else be subjected to the same fate as Potter.

Sighing, she checked her watch. It was time for her daily report to Robards. Gathering up her materials, including the timeline that she had spent the last few days meticulously putting together in order to refamiliarise herself with events (a process she often did to ensure that she hadn't missed anything), she got up from her desk and walked over to Robards' office. On her way, she passed Potter's desk. He looked up at her and smiled.

"How's it going, Tabitha?"

"Dreadfully," she replied shortly.

He frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. Still no leads?"

"Nope."

He paused, delicately, and Tabitha was about to move on when he said, "When was the last time you took a holiday?"

"Excuse me?"

"Holiday."

She scoffed loudly. "You've got to be kidding me, Potter."

"I'm not. You should take the night off. Relax a bit. It might help you get a fresh perspective on things."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need the night off." _I don't have anywhere to go.  
_  
"It's Hallowe'en. Come home and have dinner with Ginny and me and the kids."

"Thank you, but -"

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said firmly.

"You're not my boss."

"No, but I saved your sorry arse on that mission with the werewolves."

She cringed. "Fine."

"Good. See you at eight, James."

.oOo.

 _II. Repetition_

Riley Carrow had always loved Hallowe'en.

It was perhaps the single most important holiday for her family, who shunned Christmas as belonging more to the muggles than it did to wizardkind. Hallowe'en, on the other hand, would always be inherently magical, inherently theirs. The muggles took it and celebrated it - she'd seen the children in intricate costumes roaming the streets of London with their parents, the teenagers using it as an excuse to wear skimpy outfits and skulk in the shadows until well past their bedtimes - but they would never own it. Their Hallowe'en would always be a pitiful attempt at imitation; it would never be the real thing. That belonged to wizardkind, and wizardkind alone.

The Hallowe'en feast at Hogwarts was her favourite school event of the year. It wasn't the food - the Carrow's house elves were more than capable of dishing up similar, if not occasionally better, fare. But there was something about gathering around a table on a shared occasion of celebration that made Riley's insides glow. Her fellow Slytherins felt the same way as she did about Hallowe'en, except some of the muggleborns who had yet to truly understand the importance of the festival to wizardkind, and their shared love brought them closer.

Victoire, at the Gryffindor table, made a point of sitting right behind Riley so that at any point during the feast, the two girls could turn around and chat. Riley wished that Victoire could come and sit at the Slytherin table with her - she got along well with Hestia Witherspoon and Iris Fawley - but unfortunately, it would be against the rules, which dictated that one must remain at their house table for the duration of the feast, and the teachers always seemed particularly observant on special occasions.

They caught up after the feast, walking back to their respective common rooms together. Victoire rubbed her swollen stomach and let out a long, dramatic groan. "I am stuffed."

"You did eat six servings of dessert," Riley pointed out, laughing.

Victoire shrugged. "Of course I did. What's the point of a feast if not to eat multiple servings of dessert? What's the point of a Hallowe'en feast if not to eat multiple slices of pumpkin pie with extra cinnamon cream?"

"They serve pumpkin pie at other points in the year."

"Not with extra cinnamon cream they don't."

"Okay," Riley laughed, holding her hands up in defeat. "You're something of a glutton, you know that?"

"My only flaw," Victoire grinned.

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Whatever happened to your ineptitude at Divination? Or have you developed an Inner Eye overnight?'

Victoire hit her lightly on the arm. "Shut up."

They reached the end of the corridor and bid goodnight to each other, Victoire turning to the left on her way to the Gryffindor common room, and Riley towards the right and the Slytherin dungeon. She was the only person in the corridor - they had been among the last to leave the feast thanks to Victoire's great yearning for pumpkin pie.

As she walked along the candlelit hallway, she felt much calmer than she had in a very long time. For the first time since the year had begun, the kidnappings and the dark marks did not weigh on her mind. They were still there, of course, for it was impossible to entirely forget them, but they were shoved in a crevice at the very back of the brain rather than existing in the forefront. She didn't feel constrained by them, she didn't feel labeled. She felt not like a Carrow, or a pureblood, but like an ordinary girl with no family history of any significance.

How sad it was that her bliss only lasted for a few minutes.

It took her a moment to realize that she was not alone any longer. A tingle ran up her spine and she could not shake the feeling that she was being watched. At first, she told herself that she was merely being paranoid, but the light, warm feeling in her stomach was gone, replaced by a deep-seated worry. Swallowing, she glanced over her shoulder.

The corridor appeared empty. Letting out a sigh, she turned to face forward again when suddenly -

"LEVICORPUS!" A loud voice rang out across the corridor, and Riley let out a small shriek as she felt her centre of gravity disappear. Her legs swung above her head, and her body jerked downwards as she was pulled up into the air, hanging from the ceiling by an ankle. Her robes fell towards the ground, revealing her slim black trousers and white T-shirt. It took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the upending of her visual field, and she felt slightly dizzy, but she noticed two male figures, both dressed in black robes approaching her. One was wearing a blue tie, the other a red. The Gryffindor was holding out a wand pointed straight at her. Both were laughing.

As they came closer, she was able to discern their facial features. The Gryffindor was Cyrus Teller, a sixth-year muggleborn who was voraciously outspoken about muggle rights. The Ravenclaw was Peter someone - she didn't know his last name, but he had tutored Iris Fawley in Herbology, and Iris had gone on about how nice he was. He didn't look particularly nice right now.

"Let me down!" Riley shouted, kicking. "What's wrong with you?"

This made Cyrus Teller laugh. "What's wrong with me? Carrow, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you still here?"

"I'm a witch, Teller."

"You know my name, do you?"

"Yes."

"Then you probably also know that I'm a muggleborn." He tutted. "You must hate me, Carrow."

"I don't now, but I can't promise to like you if you keep me hanging in the air like this."

"You hate all of my kind, don't you?" Cyrus continued, as if Riley hadn't spoken. She was getting desperate now; she had realised the direction that this was going in, and she did not like it at all. "That's why you're still here - you want to learn how to destroy us, just like your death eater aunt and uncle tried to fifteen years ago."

"You're the same kind as I am," Riley protested. "We're both wizards! We're both the same."

"No, we're not!" Teller exclaimed. "And you'd say that, wouldn't you? No one's keen to spout pureblood mania when their life is threatened."

"You're a pureblood brat who thinks that she's better than everyone else," Peter chipped in. "You're probably in league with the people who kidnapped Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles. For all we know, you know where they are!"

"I don't!" Riley exclaimed desperately. "I don't!"

"You're lying!" Teller shouted. "I live in central London, brat. My door was one of the ones your people marked. You threatened me, and now you're going to pay."

"I didn't!" Riley could feel her mouth going very dry. "I didn't! I don't know who was behind London, I don't know who kidnapped the girls, I don't know where they are. I just want this whole thing to be over. Please just let me down!"

"So you can go running to McGonagall? I think not." He was coming closer, his wand still pointed squarely between her eyes. She was starting to get dizzy: the blood was rushing to her head and the bile was rising in her stomach.

"I won't," she begged. "I swear I won't. Please let me go. Please."

"You," Teller said, crouching down so that his breath, tainted with Firewhiskey, tickled Riley's nose, "are the worthless child of two even more worthless parents. Your family may profess that muggleborns are stains on wizardkind, but they're too blind to see that they're the real stains. If anyone deserves to be kidnapped, Riley Carrow, it's you and your maniac family."

Riley Carrow was many things. Hot-headed was one of them, sensible was not.

She spat in Cyrus Teller's face.

His eyes flashed violently as he wiped the spittle from where it had splattered across his cheeks, yet Riley could not find it in herself to regret her actions. He deserved it, she thought, but all the same, her stomach flipped anxiously as he gritted his teeth. Peter, too, was now pointing his wand squarely between her eyes.

"You're going to wish you'd never done that, Carrow," he growled.

"Am I?"

He moved his arm back in preparation for what she could only assume was to be a jinx or a curse of some sort. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palm, preparing for the worst. And yet nothing ever came.

"Put that wand down immediately."

Both Peter and Teller dropped their wands immediately. Riley's eyes focused on a tall, imposing figure in green robes standing a little way away. Professor McGonagall. A dark-haired man rounded the corner, his wand out and pointing at the two boys. Professor Smith.

Riley let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She had been saved.

Smith jerked his wand towards her and muttered something under his breath. She felt her legs swing back down below her head, and her centre of gravity readjusted. She fell to the ground, breaking her fall with her hands. She tried to get up immediately, but her legs were shaky and would not hold her weight.

Professor McGonagall was angrier than Riley had ever seen her. The lines on her forehead had deepened exponentially, forming valleys across her face, and her right hand, only a few centimeters away from her wand pocket, was shaking slightly. "My office," she told the boys, who no longer looked malicious or brave, "now. Professor Smith, if you would stay with Miss Carrow and take her to the hospital wing -"

"Of course," Professor Smith said, hurrying to Riley's side.

"This isn't over," Cyrus Teller hissed under his breath.

McGonagall raised a single, judgmental eyebrow. "I'm afraid it most certainly is. Let's go."

The headmistress left, Teller and Peter trailing behind her. Riley felt an odd sort of glee at the sight of them walking, like two disgraced dogs who had disobeyed their master's rules. She was glad that someone was fair, that for once, a kind of justice would be served.

"Are you alright, Miss Carrow?" Professor Smith asked.

Riley, though weak, shaking and pale, nodded. "I'm fine. They didn't do anything to me except hang me up there. You and Professor McGonagall were just in time."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, pausing. "I think we should still go to the Hospital Wing, just in case -"

"No," Riley said firmly. "No, I'm fine."

"But -"

"I said I was fine," she said, trying to sound staunch but not snappy. She didn't want to disrespect someone who might have just saved her life, after all. But the last thing she wanted was to go to the Hospital Wing - the matron was just the kind of worrywart who'd want to keep her overnight, and Riley had had quite enough for one night. All she wanted was to curl up, safe and sound in her own bed, and go to sleep.

Professor Smith hesitated. "Alright," he said at last. "But if you feel unwell at any point -"

"I'll come to you. Or Professor Klossy."

"Exactly."

"But right now, I want to go back to the common room."

"I can accompany you."

Riley gave him a funny look.

"I can assure you, Miss Carrow, I know where Slytherin dungeon is. I was a Slytherin myself at Hogwarts. And I would rather deliver you back to safety instead of leaving you to roam the corridors, where you might just run into some more...trouble."

This was enough to convince Riley. After all, Teller and Peter were not the only two people in Hogwarts who hated her for her blood status. At least she'd be safe with Smith around. "Alright, then."

They walked in silence for a while, neither sure of what to say. Riley had never been alone with Professor Smith before, nor had she interacted with him outside of Potions. She wasn't even a good Potioneer - she was alright, she supposed, she never blew up the cauldron or poisoned the test frog, but she wasn't particularly great. Even Slughorn, who had been incredibly fond of her, had always found something or the other wrong with her concoctions.

"What happened there, Miss Carrow?" Smith asked Riley at last. "Undoubtedly Professor McGonagall will obtain the sequence of events from the two boys, but I should like to hear your side of the story."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Over the years, Riley had become good at one thing: blocking out bad memories. She had been bullied countless times, accused of being nothing but a death eater baby who belonged in Azkaban. It was enough to break anyone, but Riley had learned to just forget it happened. She couldn't, she wouldn't let such incidents weigh on her mind. She shoved them right to the back of her consciousness, where they lay and festered, only to come back to her at night, in her dreams. She never spoke about them because to speak about them would be to acknowledge they had happened. To speak about them would be to reinforce the memories, to strengthen them to the point where they might never fade away like she hoped they would.

"Talking about it might do you some good."

"It won't."

Smith looked at her expectantly.

She sighed. "Look, I was just walking down the corridor, and they attacked me."

"Physically?"

"I _was_ hanging from the ceiling when you found me," she retorted sarcastically, hiding the shot of anger that ran through her.

"Verbally, too?"

"The usual. Death eater brat."

"Why would they say that?"

"You do know my last name, don't you?"

"I see." Smith paused for a few moments, before saying, "I do not know either of the boys well enough to advance opinions on their motives. I only know a few...select characteristics and traits. And they suggest to me that perhaps they are jealous of you."

"Jealous?"

"Of the fact that your family...is established within this world. That you have an instantly recognizable last name, while they, on the other hand, are still attempting to find a place for themselves within the delicate fabric of wizarding society."

Riley stared at him. She had thought Smith intelligent, perceptive even, but he had just proven her wrong. To suggest that the boys attacked her because they were _jealous_ that she was a pureblood...the very idea of it was absurd.

"You're wrong," she said. "They didn't attack me because they're jealous, they attacked me because they believe that I, as a pureblood, hate them."

"And is that true?"

"No!" Riley exclaimed, suddenly feeling very victimized.

Smith held up his hands in surrender. "I apologize, Miss Carrow, I have overstepped my boundaries. I in no way meant to suggest that you harbour prejudices of any sort."

"S'fine," Riley mumbled.

They reached the Slytherin common room before long. Smith turned to Riley outside the entrance and said, "I suppose you should be alright from here."

"I suppose I should."

"Professor McGonagall may wish to see you in the morning to obtain your side of events."

"You've already obtained my side of events."

"Nevertheless, she may wish to hear from you directly."

Riley shrugged. "Whatever." _I'd rather just forget this whole thing happened._

There was an uncomfortable silence. She felt as if Smith was scrutinising her, searching for something - only she couldn't quite tell what. She stared at him, her green eyes unblinking.

"If something like this happens again," he said, "or if you ever wish to speak to me, my door is always open."

Riley nodded once. "Thank you, Professor."

"Good night, Miss Carrow. Sweet dreams."

 _Unlikely_ , Riley thought, as she turned away.

 _.oOo._

 _III. Love and Freindship*_

The first Quidditch match of the season was traditionally played between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hufflepuff played Ravenclaw two weeks later. This year, however, the order was reversed. The Gryffindor captain, Katherine Mansfield, had argued that they had waited too long to replace Leslie Stiles, believing that she would be found before the season began. Apparently, Katherine had even broken down sobbing in front of Professor McGonagall, saying that they hadn't wanted to choose another Seeker because it made it feel like Leslie was gone for good.

Whatever she had said, it had worked. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were to play one another first, and Macey Longstone was _not_ happy about it, for it messed up her precious training schedule. Her only consolation came from the fact that her nemesis, Piers McKone, who captained the Ravenclaw team, was suffering just as much as she was.

The morning of the match, Teddy and Alfie were surprised not to find Ella at the breakfast table. She was a closet Hufflepuff supporter - she had been ever since Alfie made the team - and always made sure to spend the morning of a match with him. Alfie had a tendency of getting rather nervous, and both Teddy and Ella needed to be there to calm him down.

"Where is she?" Alfie wondered out loud as they sat down. "In the four years I've been on the team, she's _never_ missed a before-match breakfast. _Never_. It's like a tradition." He paused briefly to help himself to a couple of boiled eggs. "You don't think she forgot, do you?"

"Of course not!" Teddy exclaimed. "She's probably just … late."

"When is Ella Anderson late?"

"Her alarm clock might have stopped working."

Alfie considered this. "Fair enough."

But as breakfast continued and Ella failed to appear, it became rather obvious that whatever was holding her up was more than a failed alarm clock (for as Alfie pointed out, alarm clock or not, Ella was always up and down by nine o'clock at the latest). It was only when Madhuri Lodi arrived in the Great Hall that they were able to enquire as to their best friend's location. The Indian witch informed them that Ella was, in fact, still in her dormitory.

"I can take you up if you want," she offered. "I don't think she'd mind seeing you."

"Is she alright?" Teddy asked.

"She's fine," Madhuri said. "Just a little quieter than normal. Keeps insisting that nothing's bothering her, but … "

"Something is?"

She nodded. "I think so."

Madhuri accompanied the boys to the Ravenclaw dormitory. Teddy, for one, was rather glad that she had offered, for he and Alfie had been stuck outside the door to the common room a countless number of times due to being unable to solve the riddle. It wasn't like he was thick or something (after all, he did get excellent grades), but the riddles were just so … confusing. It was as if they had no correct answer. To think that the Ravenclaws had to answer them every time they wanted to get into their own common room!

She left them at the door to Ella's dormitory. The door was slightly ajar, and Teddy could see Ella sitting on her bed, the covers drawn up over her, with her nose in a book. He knocked, and she looked up. Noticing Alfie and Teddy, she let out a small sigh, put down the book, and motioned for them to approach her. Teddy pushed open the door, and they walked in.

"Hey," she greeted them.

"Hey," Teddy said, perching on the end of her bed. Alfie followed suit. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes," she said, giving them a quizzical look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Alfie stared at her, looking rather gobsmacked. Teddy, noticing this, decided to speak up before Alfie could say anything rash.

"The Hufflepuff Ravenclaw Quidditch match is this morning," he gently reminded her.

Ella's expression changed instantly: her eyes widened to unnatural proportions and she stared up at the boys with a mixture of shock and surprise. "I can't believe I forgot!" she exclaimed. "Oh goodness, Alfie, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to! I _never_ forget." She looked almost disgusted with herself, and Teddy had to suppress a laugh. Only Ella would expect to have a flawless memory.

"It's fine," Alfie said, waving his hand dismissively. "Nobody's perfect, right?"

Ella sighed. "I can try, can't I? I'm really, really sorry - my brain's just … well, occupied."

"Occupied?"

Ella rolled her tongue around inside her mouth and bit her lip, breaking eye contact with the boys. Teddy and Alfie exchanged a glance. It was evident to the both of them that there was something up with Ella, something that she wasn't telling them. Teddy didn't like not knowing what was upsetting his friends, for it severely limited his ability to rectify the situation.

"Ella?" Teddy prompted.

The Ravenclaw let out a sigh and looked back up at her friends. "I told Leo I loved him."

Teddy's mouth dropped open of its own accord.

"You _what_?"

"I told Leo I loved him," Ella repeated. "Don't look so gobsmacked, Teddy, it doesn't suit you."

"Sorry," Teddy said quickly, closing his jaw. "But ... "

"What?"

"I … didn't realise that you two were so serious." Declarations of love, at least for Teddy, were serious matters that had to be thought about. Granted, he had never been in love before, but surely one didn't just spontaneously declare their love for someone they'd only been dating less than a month?

"Neither did I," Alfie chipped in.

"I don't know," Ella said. "I don't know."

"What?"

"It just kind of came out," she confessed. "Like, I was really upset about … you know, what happened in London, and Leo was there and he was consoling me, and I told him about Mum and Ashton and then he said some nice things … lovely things, actually. And then it just kind of came out."

"Ella," Teddy began before hesitating. "No, never mind."

"You can't do that," she said, her brown eyes piercing into his. "Once you start saying something, you have to finish it. It's in the rules of friendship."

"I wasn't aware that our friendship was governed by rules."

" _Teddy_."

"Sorry."

"You were saying?"

"Right." He hesitated again, before taking a deep breath. "Are you in love with Leonardo Torricelli?"

"I told him I was, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but are you in love with him?"

Ella didn't seem to know how to answer this. Several seconds passed in silence before she finally shrugged. "I don't know. I certainly care a great deal for him, and I've never felt this way about any boy before. He's funny, he's sweet and he's just generally wonderful. But I don't know if I _love_ him. I mean, I think I do, but I don't really know what love is. If you know what I mean."

"What did he say?" Alfie said suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"You told him that you loved him. I sincerely doubt he just went, 'Right, cool' and walked away. He must have said something."

"That's just the issue," Ella sighed. "He didn't say he loved me back. I thought … well, I thought he might need time, but it's been a couple of days now, and he hasn't said _anything_. He hasn't even acknowledged the fact that I told him that I loved him, he's just kind of pretending it never happened. Which is awkward, because if he just _said_ that he's not ready to say it back, I'd appreciate that, and we can go on with our lives and relationship and whatever. But not even acknowledging my feelings…" she trailed off. "I don't know what to do."

Teddy was at a complete loss. He'd never been in Ella's situation before - Merlin, he didn't even know anyone who had. This whole relationship thing was uncharted territory for all of them. He hated being in a position where he couldn't help his friend, but he thought it was probably better to give no advice than to give wrong advice.

Ella seemed to sense this. "I don't expect the two of you to know what to do either," she said in a manner that might be considered abrupt by people unfamiliar with her mannerisms. "I just … I'll figure it out."

"You always do," Alfie said reassuringly.

There was a moment of silence before he continued, "So - Quidditch?"

"If it's alright with you, Alfie, I think I'll miss today's match," Ella said quietly. "I'm just really not feeling up to it. I'll watch from my window."

Alfie's face fell ever so slightly, but he made no fuss about his obvious disappointment. Instead, he did his best to disguise it by slapping on a smile and saying, "No worries, Ella. We'll come by after the match and let you know how it went."

"Thanks." She smiled at him. "Good luck. You know I'll be cheering for you, even if I'm not there."

 _.oOo._

 _IV. Bring the boys in_

After they left Ella to her own devices, Alfie hurried away to meet Macey Longstone and the rest of the team for their pre-match briefing and pep talk, leaving Teddy alone. Students were milling out of the Great Hall and towards the Quidditch pitch in a steady stream. Daisy Shipkins caught his eye and made a wild gesture in an attempt to catch his attention, but Teddy, who did not want to hear her moaning and complaining about Bella for the next few hours, spotted Giovanna Downing and Matilda Goshawk, and moved towards them instead.

The two girls had been spending most of their time together recently, and Teddy was glad to see that Giovanna had continued to stand up for Matilda. Matilda was such a lovely girl, and she really deserved to have a proper friend for once. She looked much happier now - she smiled more, and was far more chatty than she had been when she was afraid of Daisy swooping down on her at any given moment.

They made small talk about the upcoming Transfiguration test as they walked down to the pitch, and clambered up into the stands. They managed to find seats fairly near the front, giving them an excellent view of both set of hoops.

"Are we saving a seat for Ella?" Matilda enquired.

Teddy shook his head. "She's not coming. She's, er, not feeling too well."

"Oh, that's a shame," Giovanna said, looking truly sorry. "I hope she gets well soon."

Teddy wasn't aware that she had ever exchanged more than a passing remark with Ella, but he was touched by her empathy regardless. "Thanks, Gi. I'll tell her that."

"Who do you think's going to win?" Matilda asked, changing the subject. "I've heard that the Ravenclaw team's been practicing for ages, but they can't possibly have been working harder than the Hufflepuffs. You know Macey Longstone, she's not happy unless every single person on the team is aching all over and begging her to stop."

Teddy laughed at this — he'd been witness to a very sore Alfie returning to the Common Room after practice, moaning and groaning over how much his muscles hurt and how he could barely walk. Macey was nothing if not grueling.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said a male voice from behind them. Teddy turned around to see none other than Leonardo Torricelli approaching them, a small, nervous smile on his face. "May I sit here?"

Both Matilda and Giovanna looked rather gobsmacked — Teddy guessed that Leonardo had never really spoken properly to them before. Come to think of it, he'd never spoken properly to Teddy either.

"Yeah," Teddy said, moving over slightly to make room. "Yeah, of course. Hi, Leonardo."

"Hi," the other said awkwardly, sitting down next to Teddy.

There was silence for a few moments, before he added, "I wanted to, um, talk to you."

Matilda and Giovanna glanced at one another, and began talking amongst themselves to give the boys a bit of privacy.

"You do? About what?" Teddy tried his best not to sound abrupt, but he was afraid that he came off as being dismissive. If he did, though, Leonardo appeared not to notice it.

"Well, you're Ella's best friend, and I'm her —" he broke off.

"Boyfriend," Teddy finished for him.

"Right, boyfriend." Leonardo smiled. "It feels weird saying that."

"Why?" Teddy said sharply.

"What?"

"Don't you want to be Ella's boyfriend?"

"Oh! No! I mean, yes! Of course I do. It's just weird to think that we're properly together, when I've liked her for so long."

"You have?" This was news to Teddy, who thought that Leonardo and Ella had only really hit it off while working on that Transfiguration project during the summer, which really wasn't all that long ago.

"Oh yes. Ever since third year, maybe?"

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I was too shy," he said, sighing. "Ella always seemed so … aloof, you know? And she was always with you and Alfie, and I didn't know how you'd take to me just butting in."

Teddy wanted to argue, but he did know what Leonardo was getting at. Ella wasn't exactly the most forthcoming person, and though she was warm enough when you got to know her, it took a while for her to reveal her true personality. "Yeah, I suppose you have a point there."

"But anyway," Leonardo said, "you're her best friend. You and Alfie. And as her boyfriend, I feel I should make an effort to be friends with the two of you. I want you to know that I really care about Ella."

"I'm glad to hear that," Teddy said officiously, suddenly feeling rather like Ella's older brother than her best friend, "because she really … cares about you too. If you hurt her, it won't be pretty for you. And that doesn't just go for me, it goes for Alfie as well."

Leonardo laughed. "I have no intention of hurting her, don't worry."

"I certainly hope so," Teddy said, "because if she so much as cries because of you —"

"You and Alfie will hunt me down and thrust me into the Forbidden Forest with no protection."

"We might give you a stick or something to fend off the wolves."

"How reasonable of you."

Teddy couldn't help but smile. He appreciated Leonardo coming to talk to him, for it meant that he likely really did care about Ella, just as he said. "And just so you know, it's not just us who'll hunt you down. No one, and I mean no one does revenge better than Ella. If I'm being quite honest, she doesn't need our protection. We probably need hers."

"That's one of the things I love about her," Leonardo said, grinning.

Teddy's smile faded somewhat, but he tried his best to keep it up. One of the things he loved about her — what did that mean? Did it mean that, though he hadn't said it outright, Leonardo loved Ella? Would he return her sentiment? Should he, Teddy, say something to Leonardo about how stressed Ella was about having confessed her feelings and then having them ignored?

He hesitated, but decided against it. There was no gentle way to bring something like that into a conversation. As the Quidditch commentator's voice rang out across the pitch, he decided that he would only get involved if the situation, somehow, was exacerbated.

For Ella's sake, he hoped he wouldn't have to.

.oOo.

 _V: In which the Auror office should really hire Ella_

The Quidditch match went splendidly for Hufflepuff and terribly for Ravenclaw.

It was certainly among one of the most charged games Teddy had seen. Macey Longstone seemed to be putting an unusual amount of energy into attempting to knock a bludger in the direction of Piers McKone, the Ravenclaw captain and Seeker. While Teddy thought it might just be one of Macey's strategies, Giovanna Downing thought it had a lot to do with the fact that Piers had apparently stood Macey up on a date.

"Why would he do that?" Matilda had enquired. "Macey's nice."

Giovanna had shrugged. "Apparently Piers just forgot, but now Macey thinks it was a scheme to ruin her focus on Quidditch. This is probably her way of getting revenge."

Whatever it was, it had worked like a charm. Macey, who was an excellent Beater, knocked Piers off his broom within ten minutes. He'd refused medical help and attempted to continue on, but he had clearly been injured. When the snitch appeared, he had no chance of catching it. Bella Watson grabbed it with ease, adding one hundred and fifty points to Hufflepuff's already sizeable total.

Alfie had played brilliantly, and he and Teddy were now chatting enthusiastically as they walked back to the Hufflepuff common room. Alfie's cheeks were flushed a bright pink; he seemed to always glow after Quidditch matches. Teddy enjoyed flying, but Alfie seemed to revel in it. It seemed to infuse him with endless energy.

"Did you see when I dodged that bludger and scored a goal almost simultaneously?" he said excitedly.

Teddy laughed and nodded. "And then you almost got knocked off your broom by that _other_ bludger."

"But I avoided it!" Alfie exclaimed triumphantly. "I- oh, hello, Ella! We won!"

Ella was standing a few feet away from the entrance of the common room. All Teddy had to do was glance at her to know that something was wrong. Her hair, usually perfectly combed, was tousled and she was wearing an old white T-shirt and shorts- highly unusual for someone who was always impeccably dressed. Her eyes looked strained behind her glasses, and there was a slightly wild look in them.

"I heard," she said, and Teddy detected a touch of weariness in her voice. "Congratulations, Alfie, I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," Alfie said, giving Teddy a sidelong glance. "Is, er, everything okay?"

"Is it Leo?" Teddy chipped in.

"What? No." Ella shook her head. "No. It's just … well … I think I've figured something out."

She motioned for the boys to follow her, providing no explanation as to where they were going. Alfie and Teddy, who by now were used to Ella's strange ways, trailed behind her without question until Alfie, recognising the direction in which they were heading, balked.

"Oh, Ella, not the library!"

"Shut up and come with me, will you?" she snapped.

Alfie, despite his post-Quidditch energy, could do nothing but follow.

Ella led them into the library, past shelves and shelves of books and empty tables. A Quidditch match always put a stop to any work in the library; only the seventh years and a few Ravenclaws who professed a strong dislike of team sports diligently remained. Teddy watched them curiously - how they managed to be immune to the Quidditch fever that gripped the rest of the school population, he couldn't begin to guess.

Ella took the boys into one of the study rooms at the back of the library and shut the door. The room was small, consisting only of an old wooden square table with scratches along its surface, and a couple of chairs. Ella had clearly been busy, for the table was covered in newspaper and magazine clippings, mostly from the _Daily Prophet_ , but also from _The Quibbler_ and other related current affairs publications. Teddy even saw some that he didn't recognise, but judging by the way the figures in the photographs stayed stationary, he figured that they must be muggle.

"What's all this?" Alfie asked, his eyes widening as he scanned the crowded table. "What on Earth have you been up to?"

"I was thinking," Ella began, "back when I was up in my dormitory, about everything that's happened."

"How did you get from Leonardo to that?"

Ella's eyes flashed. "I don't just spend all my time obsessing over boys, Alfie. It was a natural thought progression - I told Leonardo I loved him after I told him about Mum and Ashton, so when I thought about that, I started thinking about the mark. And then I started thinking about how the person behind it could have possibly figured out the addresses of all the muggleborns in London since the Ministry doesn't keep a registry of blood status anymore, and then I realised - they didn't."

"They didn't?" Teddy asked, confused out of his mind.

"No," Ella shook her head impatiently, "at least not _all_ the muggleborns. Listen, Professor McGonagall didn't want me to repeat this, and I didn't realise what it really meant until now, but only the residences that had a witch or a wizard under seventeen living there were targeted."

"So you're saying that they found out the muggleborns' addresses through Hogwarts?" Teddy said slowly.

"Yes."

"Does that mean that someone from inside Hogwarts is responsible?" Alfie asked.

"No," Ella said, chewing her lip. "I've been reading _Hogwarts: A History_ and there's supposedly a book that lists all the names of the magical people born in England. It doesn't list blood status though, so I don't know how the person figured out who was a muggleborn and who wasn't, but it's a start. At least I think. But that's not all."

"What is it then?"

"Everything's connected to Hogwarts," she said. "All the muggleborns targeted in London were Hogwarts students. Two Hogwarts students were kidnapped, and the dark mark appeared on the Hogwarts gates. The Hogsmeade demand happened on the one weekend we, Hogwarts students, happened to visit the village."

"Couldn't that just be some sort of coincidence?" Teddy asked.

Ella shrugged. "It could. But then again - it might not be."

"So what are we going to do?" Alfie looked between Ella and Teddy, his face somewhat terrified. Teddy's heart went out to him - he knew that Alfie had been worried about recent events, and the knowledge that everything may be connected to his school, must not be reassuring.

"I don't know," Ella said, chewing her lip. "It's all still a theory - I don't really have all the facts, I can't prove anything. And I'm sure the Aurors have already figured this out."

"What if they haven't?" Teddy said. "We've got to inform them somehow. Maybe we could write to Tabitha James?"

"No!" Alfie exclaimed loudly, surprising both Teddy and Ella. He sobered quickly, and said, "I just mean, Ella's right. We don't have all the facts yet. We could be entirely wrong."

"We?" Ella quirked an eyebrow.

Alfie rolled his eyes in response. "You."

"Much better, thank you."

Teddy, who was still somewhat taken aback by Alfie's violent response to what he at least had thought was an entirely reasonable suggestion, shook his head. "I think we should let her know. For all we know, this could help her. Don't you two want to find out what's going on?"

"Of course," Ella said softly, "but Alfie _is_ right. We don't know what's going on, not really, and this," she gestured to the table in front of her, "is all speculation. If something else happens, we'll tell her, but right now -" she paused "I think I need to figure this out for myself. Try and make it all make sense. Tabitha …" she shook her head. "I don't know. She doesn't strike me as the kind of person who'd want to waste her time with allegations like mine which aren't properly substantiated."

"You could tell Uncle Harry," Teddy suggested. "He wouldn't judge you if it's wrong!"

"Teddy," Ella said, a hint of determination in her voice. "Believe me when I say _no one_ wants these people caught as much as I do. As far as I'm concerned, they've threatened my mother, and they've threatened Ashton. And that, to me, is like a declaration of war. I'm going to keep working at this, and once I've got something solid, I promise you, it'll go straight to Tabitha. Or your uncle Harry."

Teddy looked into Ella's dark, strong eyes and understood. Ella was fiercely protective of her younger brother; it was almost as if she felt a sort of responsibility to him, as the witch of the family. He knew that she would only do what she thought was best for him, especially in a situation like this.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "Okay. But -"

"But what?"

"You're not in this alone. Alfie and I are here, one hundred percent. Whatever you need, let us know." Alfie nodded staunchly in agreement, although Teddy couldn't help but feel like there was still something a bit odd about his manner.

Ella smiled. "I know. I love both of you, I really do."

"Woah," Alfie held up his hands. "I mean...I appreciate your love and all that, Ella, but, gee, I just don't have romantic feelings like that for you. I'm saving them all up for Bella Wat- ow!"

Ella smacked him on the arm.

"Too soon?" he asked jokingly.

"Too soon."

 _.oOo._

 _VI. Speaking of Bella Watson_

Bella Watson was the kind of girl who you either loved or hated.

The vast majority of people loved her, and rightfully so, for she was kind, sweet, and beautiful. Sure, she dated around a fair bit, and most of the boys in her year could say that they'd been for dinner with Bella Watson, or that they'd kissed her by the Great Lake, but very few felt bad about the fact that they were but one of many. The girls didn't mind it too much either. Of course, some felt jealous that she monopolised male attention, but many of them had their own boyfriends - and Bella never, ever touched a boy who was in a relationship. She was just too principled for that.

But the simple fact that she was known to play the field was well-utilised by Laura Shipkins. Laura was a known gossip, and many of the girls (and boys, for a teenage love of gossip knows no gender) loved listening to her stories. And when she started talking about a relationship between Bella and Macmillan … well, people believed her. For one, Bella and Macmillan did spend an awful lot of time together, and Bella was known to be a bit of a maneater, and all the supposed facts seemed to knit together.

Plus, who doesn't love a bit of scandal now and then?

All these factors, and several not mentioned (for it is difficult to pin down exactly what is relevant and what is not), came together to create what was later considered as the ultimate moment in the Laura vs. Bella battle. And it all began the Monday after the Quidditch match.

 _.oOo._

 _VII. Bella v Laura (part ? of ?)_

That Monday, Bella Watson sat in Professor Macmillan's second period Defence Against the Dark Arts class, scribbling down notes as quickly as possible. Her quill scratched against the rough parchment in front of her and she tried to get down all of the very important things Macmillan was saying about jinx theory - something that was sure to come up on their final exam. She was exhausted from the Quidditch match yesterday, but she was determined to keep up in class - missing even a single lesson could have a terrible impact on her exam results, and she wanted to do well more than anything else. Her parents, after all, were banking on it.

"Right," Macmillan said, glancing at his watch. "Take a break. Process what you've learned. And -" A small smile formed on his face, and he held out his hand. "- hand in your weekend homework. I'll be coming around to collect your essays."

Everyone began to scramble in their bags, but Bella remained frozen, her face slowly losing all of its colour. _Weekend homework_? She suddenly faintly recalled Macmillan saying something on Friday about comparing and contrasting jinx and hex theory as she ran out of class in an effort to make Quidditch practice on time.

"Damn it _"_ , she swore under her breath.

Evelien Spironova, the brunette Gryffindor who sat next to her, glanced at her awkwardly, holding a couple of pages of parchment in her hand. "Is everything alright, Bells?"

"No," Bella said, rubbing her hand against her head. "I'm an idiot."

"That's not true."

"It is, Evie. I forgot all about the homework."

Evelien twisted her lips to the side. "Yikes."

"Yup." She sighed. "I promised myself I'd get all my work done, but I just completely forgot, what with the match, and the stress, and the _ugh_." She hit her fist lightly against her table in frustration. "Goddamn it."

"Hey," Evelien said soothingly, gently resting her palm against Bella's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Macmillan's not going to get mad or anything. Especially not -" she glanced around briefly, and then lowered her voice, " - at _you_."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just…" Evelien looked a little awkward. "Well, I know, Bella."

"What?"

"About you and Macmillan."

"Oh," Bella said, attempting to hide her irritation. It seemed like _everyone_ thought she was dating Professor Macmillan; she thought that the seventh years, at least, would have enough common sense to know that she was completely innocent, and that Laura Shipkins was not to be trusted when it came to her. "Yeah. We're not dating. Or hooking up, or whatever everyone seems to think we're doing."

"Oh," Evelien said. "I just - "

"Assumed since everyone's talking about it. Yeah, whatever."

Evelien shrank back slightly. "Bells -"

Bella sighed. "I'm sorry, Evie, it's just this whole thing is starting to get on my nerves. It's so … wrong."

"I have to admit, I didn't really believe it at first. But then everyone was talking about it, and Laura Shipkins _swore_ -"

"She'll swear anything where I'm concerned."

"Fair point," Evelien said. "I don't know why she's got it out for you, I mean, you're both such nice people."

Bella almost laughed at this. Laura Shipkins had been nothing but horrible to her since the day they had both started at Hogwarts, and it amazed Bella to think that she could be _nice_ to other people. To Bella, it seemed like she was incapable of it.

Professor Macmillan reached their table, and Evelien handed her essay to him. "I'm not sure if I interpreted the question right," she said, "but I did my best anyway."

"I'm sure it's wonderful, Miss Spironova," Macmillan said, smiling at Evelien. Bella couldn't help but think that he had quite a nice smile, genuine and kind with no hint of being forced.

"Miss Watson?"

"Sorry?" Bella snapped out of her reverie, and looked at Macmillan, who was staring at her questioningly, one arm around a stack of essays and the other hand outstretched towards her.

"Your essay?"

"Right." She hesitated, very much aware that most of the class was staring at her and Macmillan. She could distinctly hear Laura Shipkins whispering to Malini Farrow, another Hufflepuff in their year, and she instinctively knew what they were saying. After all, when did Laura ever pass up an opportunity to deride and disparage her, or to spread her poisonous trash?

 _Ignore them_.

She focused her attention back on Professor Macmillan and said, "I'm sorry, Professor. I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"Yes," she said, lowering her eyes shamefully. "This weekend was busy for me, what with the Hufflepuff Quidditch match being pre-poned and -"

"Faye's on the Quidditch team too, you know," Laura said, in what was ostensibly supposed to be a whisper, but was loud enough for the entire class to hear. "And _she_ did the essay."

Bella ignored her. "I'm so sorry, Professor."

"Bella, I can't let this go," he said, his dark eyes solemn.

"I understand."

"I'm afraid you'll have to serve detention with me tonight."

Several things happened at once.

"WHAT?" Laura Shipkins practically screamed, jumping up from her chair.

Her chair scraped against the floor, and toppled over. The leg got caught under Malini Farrow's chair, and Malini fell to the floor with a distinct, "Ow!" Girls across the class began giggling.

Laura paid them no heed. Instead, she advanced towards Bella and Macmillan, her eyes blazing.

Bella froze.

"This cannot be good," Evelien muttered under her breath. Her hand went to her wand.

"Miss Shipkins, please take a seat," Macmillan said in an ineffectual attempt to placate her.

"When _I_ failed to hand in an essay on time, _you_ failed me!" Laura snapped at Macmillan. "And you're making her serve detention? _Just_ detention? With _you_. I had an excuse, and you weren't that lenient with me! Just because you're _screwing_ her -"

"Miss Shipkins!" Macmillan exclaimed, the horror evident on his face. Suddenly, the classroom was very, very silent, almost like a morgue, or a graveyard. Bella felt her cheeks burn with a red hot embarrassment, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground. The rumour had been bearable until now. She respected Professor Macmillan, nothing more. And now it was all going to go to hell.

"Oh can it, Professor, we all know it." Laura's voice was filled with a victorious malice. "You two have been screwing for months - hell, maybe even since last year. Why else would you want her to serve a detention with you, tonight? What even is that, code for sex?"

"Laura!" Bella shouted, surprising everyone, including herself. She was not the kind of person who got angry easily, but this … this was far, _far_ too much. "You don't know anything, alright?"

She was aware of Macmillan's eyes on her, but she couldn't stand to look at him. "Professor Macmillan and I are not… whatever. It's just a silly rumour that you made up because you're jealous of me."

"I am not-"

"Can it, Shipkins, it's the truth!" Bella got up from her seat and advanced towards the redhead. Evelien tried to stop her, but Bella shook her off. "Everyone here knows it! You can't stand that I'm smarter than you, better at Quidditch, and, yes, prettier than you! You can't stand any of it, so you make up these ridiculous lies in order to kid yourself that I am not deserving of any of it."

"You little bitch!"

"Girls!" Macmillan exclaimed loudly in an attempt to be heard over them. "Girls, I must ask you both to please-"

"Yes, call me a bitch, why don't you?" Bella screamed. "Call me a bitch, a slut, a whore, call me all of those things, but it won't change the fact that you are nothing but an immature little entitled brat who can't stand the idea that she isn't a little special snowflake and the teacher's pet."

"Teacher's pet!" Laura snorted. "I don't want to be a teacher's pet if it means I have to _shag_ the teacher!"

" _I AM NOT SHAGGING PROFESSOR MACMILLAN!"_

Silence.

Bella stood in the middle of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, surrounded by people and yet feeling more alone than she ever had in her life. _What is this_? she asked herself silently. _Is this my punishment for doing well, for being above average?_ She was faintly aware of Evelien approaching her, putting her arm around her and rubbing her shoulder softly, but it didn't matter. None of it did. Because of her, someone else's life had been ruined. Macmillan's name would always be negatively associated with hers, and it was all her fault for thinking that maybe, just maybe she could be above average.

She shouldn't be Head Girl. She shouldn't have been a prefect. She shouldn't be on the Quidditch team.

Pushing Evelien aside, she turned and ran out of the room.

.oOo.

 _VII: Interconnected and unconnected_

Things are always happening everywhere, and it is often difficult to determine which one is the most important. On the evening of the very same day that Bella Watson ran out of class after exclaiming that she and Professor Macmillan were not having sexual relations, Tabitha James stood in Gawain Robards' office getting a serious talking-down to.

"Why is it that we still have no leads? It's been almost a month, James, the bloody Department is breathing down my neck and -"

If there was one thing Tabitha hated, it was being talked down to. She did her job. She always did her job to the best of her abilities, and sometimes things went slowly. It was the way it worked - sometimes you got leads, and sometimes you didn't. It irritated her like hell, and she tried her best to expedite the investigative process, but nothing, and she meant nothing, was biting. This, she thought, truly was the case from hell.

Naturally it was the one that got all the media attention.

"Can you explain why only wizards under seventeen were targeted? Was Hogwarts infiltrated?"

"Not that we -"

"Was the Ministry of Magic broken into?

"No-"

"Then how the hell did they find out where the muggleborns lived?"

"Sir I'm try-"

"Try bloody harder. Put in more hours, instead of going off to have dinner with Potter -"

Tabitha groaned inwardly. Of course he'd heard. She'd had a lovely Hallowe'en dinner at Potter's house, actually enjoyed herself for once (not that she'd admit it), and of course, Robards would find a way to ensure that it never happened again.

"That reporter wife of his could have tried to weasel case details out of you -"

"She didn't."

"How do you know?"

"How do I-" Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Because I didn't tell her anything!"

"She has her ways, that Ginny Weasley. She was the worst player the Holyhead Harpies ever had. And I hope you didn't tell Potter anything - he has his own cases to deal with."

 _Cases which are too simple for him_ , Tabitha thought.

"I did not hire you, Tabitha, to socialise with the bloody Boy Who Lived."

Tabitha bit back a retort. "No, sir. You hired me to solve this case. But you're not giving me the resources I need-"

"How am I not giving you the resources you need?" Robards exploded. "You have Munroe-"

"He's not enough! We need more people on this!"

"Why, James? Why do you need more people when you don't even have a bloody lead? I'll tell you what - you get me a lead, I'll get you more people. Until then, I've got nothing for you"

She held her head up defiantly, meeting Robards' gaze. "Give me a Hogsmeade patrol."

"Nothing for you," he repeated, breaking eye contact and turning to the papers on his desk. "You're dismissed, James."

"Damn it!" she slammed her hands down on his desk, causing him to look up in shock. "You're not giving me the resources I need, and you expect me to get you a lead? Why don't you do it then, if you're so bloody wonderful? I _need_ a Hogsmeade patrol."

"Why?"

Tabitha paused. She didn't actually know why she needed one, but there was a swirling feeling in her gut that told her that it was the right thing to do, that she needed one there. Her mind worked as fast as lightning, and she joined the dots quickly. "Sir, London was attacked. Hogsmeade has already been indicated as a place of interest for whoever these people are, and it's got a sizeable wizarding population - the second largest outside London. We've theorised that the London attacks were to make people feel insecure, and if that's their goal, Hogsmeade is the next obvious target. Hell, it's right next to Hogwarts."

"And why the hell didn't you tell me all this before?"

Tabitha bit back a retort. "Sorry, sir."

Robards shook his head condescendingly. "Fine. You'll get your patrol. Now go and get me some actual leads. You're dismissed, James."

She bit her lip, nodded, and left the office silently, her anger simmering rather than satiated.

She would show him, that's what she would do. She'd get a bloody lead. She'd do it all by herself. She'd solve this case, and then she'd be back to being his star Auror.

Aurors were slowly filtering out of the office as she assumed her place at her desk. In front of her was the timeline that she had spent the last few days working on — it was filled with images of the kidnapped girls and the related crimes that had been committed, lists of the London targets, and multiple news reports and evidence files. She'd painstakingly accumulated all of the existing knowledge that they had about the events and she scanned it now, trying desperately to search for something new in the mixture of images and text.

"I'm missing something," she whispered to herself. "I know I'm missing something."

* * *

*the misspelling of 'friendship' is totally intentional. The chapter is titled after Jane Austen's _Love and Freindship -_ she spelled the title wrong, but her publishers elected to keep the error!

Hope you guys liked this chapter - I personally love the parallels between _Bella v Laura (part ? and ?)_ and _Standing up,_ and I loved writing the scene between Leo and Teddy. As usual, update due in two weeks (21st September!)


	10. Chapter 10: Solidarity in Numbers

**Chapter Ten: Solidarity in Numbers**

 _I: Aftermath_

One of the traits that made Hufflepuff house unique was that no one really liked being alone, particularly during times of uncertainty.

Back when Leslie Stiles had been kidnapped, no one except the first years had gone to bed. They had all sat together, huddled in groups, in the common room, taking solace in company and the knowledge that no matter what was happening, they would go through it together. The comradeship of the house was one of the things that Teddy loved the most about it.

Tonight was somewhat different. Bella Watson, usually someone hard to miss in the common room, wasn't there.

In fact, nobody knew where she was. All they knew was that she'd run out Defence Against the Dark Arts after getting into a confrontation with Laura Shipkins about the rumour that had been going around. She hadn't reappeared.

"I've searched _everywhere_ ," Evelien Spironova was saying. It was unusual for a member of another house to be openly accepted within the common room - Ella always had to sort of hide when she came in - because Macey Longstone was certain that everyone who wasn't a Hufflepuff was a spy for a rival Quidditch team. But Evelien, who was probably closer to Bella then any of the Hufflepuff girls, with the possible exception of Macey, had been welcomed with open arms. After all, Teddy thought, if it was, say, Ella who was missing, he'd want to know the moment she was found.

"I just really hope she's okay," Evelien said, her voice thick with repressed tears. "I should have gone after her. Why didn't I go after her?"

"Relax, Evie," Macey said soothingly. "The teachers are looking. They'll find her."

"Ten galleons it's Macmillan who finds her," Daisy Shipkins said. Morna tittered, but the majority of the house turned and looked at her, their eyes sharp.

"Would you put a can on it?" Evelien snapped. "You're Laura Shipkins' sister aren't you? She's the reason for this whole mess in the first place. Bella Watson is not doing _anything_ with Professor Macmillan, and you both know it. You _all_ know it," she said, addressing the house.

Daisy looked around nervously, probably searching for her sister to protect her, but Laura was nowhere to be seen. She'd come into the common room about an hour ago, but had gone straight up to her dormitory without talking to anyone - unusual, Teddy thought, as he figured that she would have wanted to gloat about what could easily be perceived as a victory for her. But it seemed that opinion had turned against the Shipkins' sisters.

"This rumour has gone too far," Evelien continued. "Your sister, Shipkins, has hurt Bella, and a teacher. They're _real_ people. I'm disgusted."

Daisy turned her face away, and Morna put an arm around her comfortingly.

"Do you think Bella's okay?" Alfie whispered anxiously to Teddy. "What if she's - you know?"

"What?"

"Been kidnapped." He said it with wide, innocent eyes and Teddy could see that his fear for Bella's safety was both genuine and deep-seated. His heart went out to him.

"No, I'm sure she hasn't," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. "She's probably fine."

"Then why hasn't she come back?"

"Alfie, people have said horrible things about her and Professor Macmillan, in front of Professor Macmillan. Imagine if that happened to you. You'd be embarrassed, right? You probably wouldn't want to face anyone - let alone Macmillan."

"Yeah, but she could just come back here. She's got her own room and everything."

"Yeah," Teddy said, "but she'd have to go and see Professor Macmillan at some point because he's our Head of House."

Alfie cringed, as if he was experiencing Bella's acute embarrassment. "That's not going to be fun."

"No," Teddy said grimly. He didn't know what was going to happen when Bella came back, but he knew that the relationship between Bella and Macmillan would never be the same again. How could it be, after rumours like these?

Alfie glanced back over at where Macey and Evelien were standing. Evelien was pacing up and down, her hands knotted behind her back. Every now and then she'd squeeze them together tightly, nearly cutting off the blood supply to her fingertips. Macey stood still, watching her, and fiddling with a snitch on her Quidditch charm bracelet. Teddy couldn't help but think that it was rather symbolic.

Suddenly, voices came from outside the common room, and everyone's eyes - including Daisy's - shifted towards the door.

"Yer sure yeh'll be okay, Miss Watson?" said a booming male voice. A couple of people glanced at each other questioningly, as if they didn't quite know who was speaking, but Teddy recognised it instantly. _Hagrid_. His heart immediately felt lighter.

"If she's with Hagrid, it'll be fine," he whispered to Alfie. "Hagrid's a good person." Back in first year, before Teddy had told Ella and Alfie about his father being a werewolf, he had spent numerous full moons in Hagrid's hut. The half-giant would stay up late with him, telling him stories about his parents and his godfather. Although Teddy didn't see him outside of Care of Magical Creatures much anymore, he still loved Hagrid, and tried to go and visit him whenever he got a spare moment. He realised with a sudden pang that he hadn't actually gone to have tea with Hagrid since September - far too much had been going on, and Hagrid didn't want him coming out too late in the evening. He'd have to go and see him soon.

Bella said something, but Teddy and Alfie were unable to hear her.

"If anyone says anything to yeh, yeh come straight back out to me, understand? Yeh and Professor Macmillan." Hagrid sounded disgusted, and Teddy could practically see him shaking his head disapprovingly. "The things some people come up with. Disgustin'."

"It's fine, Hagrid," Bella said, her voice barely audible.

"It's not ruddy fine, they deserve teh be-"

"Hagrid." Despite the low volume, Teddy could make out the fatigue in Bella's voice. "I just … not now. I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course yeh don't," Hagrid said, his voice softening. "Of course. But-"

"If anyone says anything, I will come straight to you."

"An' I'll deal with them. Good nigh', Bella."

"Night, Hagrid."

A moment later, Bella entered the common room. No one even pretended not to look at her, and Teddy could tell that she was wary of her housemates' unfaltering gaze. She looked exhausted, he thought, for her entire body seemed to sag, as if there was something heavy on her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and he knew that she'd been crying. Though he had never had a crush on her like Alfie did, he still felt his heart go out to her. No matter what people might say about her and her promiscuity, Bella was still an essentially good person. And she did not deserve to be treated like this in any way.

"She's been crying," Alfie said quietly.

Teddy nodded. "Yeah. She has. Can you blame her?"

"No. If it was me, I'd _still_ be crying."

Bella spotted Evelien and Macey and approached them directly, her eyes focusing on the spot on the wall between them. She was doing her best to maintain her calm and poise, and Teddy couldn't help but admire her for it. He watched as both girls hugged her, and then spoke with her in hushed whispers. What Bella was doing required such strength - he wasn't sure if he would have the courage to walk back into the common room after what had happened.

Evelien nodded at something that Macey said, and slid her arm through Bella's. The two girls walked through the common room, and straight out of the door. As they moved through, students quickly moved aside to make room for them.

"Where are they going?" Alfie whispered.

Macey heard him. "To the Gryffindor dormitories," she replied. "Bella needs some time away from here. And quite frankly, I don't blame her." She turned to face the rest of the house with an expression that read of anger and frustration. Teddy immediately felt his heart sink slightly; no one loved Hufflepuff house more than Macey did, and as Quidditch Captain she was constantly reminding them of how fabulous they were, both on and off the pitch. Now, she looked at them as if she didn't quite know where she was, or who they were.

"I have never been so ashamed to be a Hufflepuff," she said quietly. Teddy had never heard her speak so softly before - he'd thought that Macey would shout when she was angry, but her whisper instilled more fear in him than a yell ever could. "A Hufflepuff began this rumour, and Hufflepuffs helped spread it, even when they should have known that it was wrong. You know, I thought Hufflepuff house was supposed to pride itself in its loyalty, in its comradeship. I guess I was wrong."

"Macey," Faye Keys, a Chaser on the Quidditch team, spoke up, but Macey held up a hand.

"No, Faye. None of us - including myself - went up to Laura and told her to stop. We didn't do anything, and if we had, maybe we could have stopped Bella and Professor Macmillan from getting hurt in the way that they have. People insult us by saying that we're the house for rejects, the ones who aren't brave enough to be Gryffindors, smart enough to be Ravenclaws, or cunning enough to be Slytherins. I say - I _used_ to say - that they were wrong, that we're the house for people who don't fit into the above molds, who are mixes of every other house." She paused briefly, sucking in her lips and running her tongue over the space between her nose and mouth nervously. "I guess I was wrong."

"Macey, you can't blame all of us for what Laura Shipkins did," a fourth-year said in a small voice.

"No, I suppose I can't," Macey admitted. "But regardless, we should have stood up to her. We should have done _something_ instead of letting Laura just have her way. Laura was jealous - there was nothing else to it, and no matter how many of you believed the rumour on the surface, you all knew that the crux of it was that Laura wanted a way to bring down Bella. For years, we've been watching her try, and none of us have said anything. Well, congratulations, guys. We've just let her win."

"No!" Alfie exclaimed. Teddy turned to him in surprise, as did the rest of the house. Becoming rather conscious of the attention, he blushed and went very quiet until Teddy elbowed him slightly. "What I mean to say is," he choked out, "we haven't let her win. Not yet."

"Really, Hayes, because this seems like a Shipkins victory to me," Macey said, folding her arms in front of her.

"It's not," Alfie insisted. "Not until McGonagall expels Bella and fires Macmillan for breaking the rules. Not until Laura escapes from this unharmed. Until then, she hasn't won. Until then, we can do something."

"What do you propose?"

"I haven't thought this through entirely," Alfie admitted, "and I don't know whether it'll be much use. But there's no evidence that Bella and Macmillan were in a relationship."

"There's no evidence that they weren't either," Macey pointed out.

"I don't know how it works in the wizarding world, but in the muggle world, whenever someone's put on trial for breaking the rules, people can give evidence for or against the accused," Alfie explained. "Witnesses."

"Yeah, we have witnesses too," Macey said.

"So what if we all act as witnesses for Bella? What if we all sign a piece of paper that says that we believe with all of our hearts that she's innocent, what if we sign a piece of paper that we say that the rumour was entirely made up - I mean, how many of you were in the room when Laura exclaimed that Bella and Professor Macmillan were supposedly seeing each other because she thought he was being unfair to her, when actually she was the one who disregarded his rules?" A number of people put their hands up, including Teddy. "Exactly. We're Bella's witnesses."

"But we shouldn't throw Laura Shipkins under the bus," Faye said. "She's as much of a Hufflepuff as Bella is."

As far as Teddy was concerned, Laura Shipkins deserved whatever was coming to her, but Alfie had a different idea.

"That's true. So, when we're writing up this document, we'll exclude Laura's name. We'll just say - I don't know - a person, or something. That way, it's up to Bella whether or not she wants to name Laura as the person who started the rumour."

Macey was looking at Alfie with a mixture of admiration and surprise. "Hayes, that's … that's actually a bloody good idea."

Alfie blushed. "I just want to help a friend and teammate. That's all."

"We can start drawing up the document now," Macey said. "Who's got a piece of parchment and a quill - ah, thank you, Giovanna!"

As the members of Hufflepuff crowded around Macey, who was proposing sentences and then writing down the ones that everyone seemed to like, Teddy turned to Alfie, a smile on his face. Although he had always known that Alfie had a big heart, he felt incredibly, incredibly proud to have witnessed him tonight, not giving up on a friend. "You're quite something, you know that?" he said. "And that was quite some speech."

Alfie grinned at him. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Within twenty minutes, Macey had written a very formal-sounding paragraph, stating that the below signatories attested to the innocence of Miss Bella Watson and Professor Ernest Macmillan, insofar as the reported breach of Article 45 of the Hogwarts Code was concerned. Giovanna Downing had actually run to the library to get the Code, and had searched through it to look for the rule that explicitly banned sexual relations between a professor and a student. The paragraph also read that many of the signatories witnessed another student, who they have decided to keep anonymous, begin the rumour based on nothing but mere speculation. The appropriate witnesses were to inscribe a 'w' next to their names and signatures, so McGonagall could call on them if required.

"Now all that's left is to sign it," Macey declared. "Hayes, it was your idea, I think you should go first."

Alfie protested, but Macey wouldn't take no for an answer. She handed him the quill and parchment, and he glanced at Teddy, who nodded once. Gripping the quill, he scribbled his signature and printed his name and a 'w' next to it. Macey went next, and, slowly, the parchment made it's way around the common room. When his turn came, Teddy signed it with a flourish and turned to pass it to the person sitting next to him.

It was only when he caught a flash of ginger hair that he realised just who the person sitting next to him was.

Daisy Shipkins, who he thought had gone to bed a long time ago, for she had been so quiet, looked at the quill and parchment with a mixture of shock, horror and fear. They made eye contact for a few brief seconds, and Teddy found himself suddenly realising exactly how Daisy felt. She was terrified of going against her sister, and yet she was terrified of rejection.

"It's oka-" he began to say, but before he could finish his sentence, she burst into tears, and ran out of the room.

Morna Clemmons looked rather like a fish as she gaped at Teddy, and then at Daisy's retreating back. "I should-" she began to say, before breaking off and running after Daisy.

"Well," Macey said, when they were both out of earshot. "I suppose we ought to have expected that. Lupin, if you'll just pass it to the next person please."

Teddy, still processing the occurrence, handed the parchment to Giovanna Downing without a word.

.oOo.

 _II: Politics, petitions, and perjury_

"Bella Watson was in Gryffindor tower last night," Victoire told Teddy, Alfie, Ella and Riley over breakfast the next morning. "No one realised until this morning when she came downstairs with Evelien Spironova. Some idiot made a joke about not knowing that Spironova liked girls, but Evie gave him such a glare that he shut up instantly."

"Go, Evie!" Alfie said enthusiastically.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ella said, holding up her hands. "Evelien Spironova's over there." She pointed to a mass of brown hair at the Gryffindor table. "So where's Bella?"

"Oh, I can answer that," Riley piped up. She didn't look at the others, instead engrossed in carefully buttering the slice of toast on her plate.

Teddy and the others watched her, waiting for her to say something. When she remained silent, Victoire, who was sitting next to her, nudged her. "Oi."

"What?"

Victoire rolled her eyes. " _Riles_."

"Am I being difficult again?"

"Quite. Where's Bella Watson?"

Riley placed the butter knife on her side plate delicately; Teddy didn't even hear the sound of the metal hitting against the porcelain. "First," she said, sighing, "promise me that he won't go mental." She pointed to Alfie, who looked rather indignant.

"Oi, I'm perfectly sane!"

"Not where Bella Watson is concerned," Ella muttered, sipping her glass of water. When Alfie glared at her, she merely quirked an eyebrow. "What? It's true."

"Not helping," Alfie grumbled.

Teddy, who was rather curious about where Bella was, felt himself growing impatient. This, he thought, was one of the things that most irritated him about Riley - her inability to tell a story straight. She always had to pause for dramatic effect, to make herself out to be some sort of all knowing oracle. It was funny - Victoire couldn't keep anything a secret for more than two seconds, and shared everything she knew with her friends. Riley was the complete opposite. No matter what she said, Teddy always got the feeling that there was something she was withholding. And he didn't like it one bit.

"Alfie promises he won't go mental," he said.

"Alfie did not -" said Alfie.

"You're referring to yourself in the third person."

"So? I didn't promise anything."

"Fine." Teddy turned back to Riley. " _I_ promise that Alfie won't go mental. Now, you were saying?"

"Oh, I saw Bella Watson this morning," Riley said casually, leaning forward so that her shoulder was resting on the edge of the table - not on the table, because that would be bad manners. "She was heading towards Micky-G's office."

"Who?"

"Micky-G." Riley rolled her eyes. " _McGonagall_."

Ella almost spat out her water. " _Riley_ ," she spluttered. "That's - that's disrespectful."

Riley shrugged. "Whatever. She was going to see the Headmistress. Probably about this whole situation." Her eyes suddenly widened, and Teddy noticed a tiny bright spark appear in her pupils. "Hey, what if she's getting expelled? Or stripped of her badge?"

" _Riley_ ," Victoire, Alfie, Ella and Teddy chorused in unison.

The Slytherin held up her hands in defeat. "Right, sorry, disrespectful, I know."

"More like disconcerting," Alfie said.

"Ooh, well done, Hayes, I didn't know you knew that word."

" _Riley!"_ Teddy exclaimed. Victoire reached out and hit her on the arm.

"Sorry, sorry," she said, glaring at Victoire and rubbing the red spot that had formed just above her elbow.

"You really have to watch what you say!" Victoire told the brunette.

Alfie was twirling his fork around absentmindedly, staring at a spot on the table. His eyebrows were furrowed and he kept licking his upper lip, something Teddy had noticed he did when he was thinking hard about something. As Victoire and Riley bickered among themselves, Teddy nudged Alfie. "You okay?"

Alfie nodded, but he didn't look up for a few moments. When he did, he turned to Teddy, a great deal of resolve in his eyes. "We should go," he said, loudly enough to make Victoire and Riley stop talking and look at him curiously.

"What? Where?" Teddy felt his stomach sink slightly; he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly where Alfie wanted to go.

"All of us?" Ella enquired.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Well, the girls not as much -"

"Hey!" Victoire exclaimed. "Just because we're girls -"

"No, Vic, because you're not Hufflepuffs. Because you didn't sign the petition that we signed that declares Bella's innocence. We," he said, turning back to Teddy, "we need to go to McGonagall's office, and we need to tell her that Bella is innocent. You three," he said to the girls, "can come too, if you believe Bella's innocent."

Riley snorted. "Of course she is. Bella Watson's not about to break the rules, even for someone _gorgeous_ like Macmillan. She's a Hufflepuff after all."

Teddy wasn't exactly sure what Riley was trying to get at, though he had a feeling it wasn't awfully complimentary. Nevertheless, he ignored her, choosing instead to focus on Alfie, who he regarded with a nervous ambivalence. "Alfie," he began, before hesitating, wondering exactly how to go about this, "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Alfie asked, his mouth set in a thin line. Though Alfie did not think he was stubborn, Teddy had come to realise that he was, particularly when he'd made up his mind, and particularly where his friends were concerned. "She _needs_ us, Teddy."

"Does she?" Ella asked. "I mean, yes, I'm sure she'd like the support, but Bella Watson is strong and independent. Do you really think that she needs _you_?"

As she stressed the last word, Alfie's mouth quavered slightly. Teddy knew instantly that she'd struck a nerve; Alfie had always had a crush on Bella, and despite the fact that they were teammates, he had never truly been friends with Bella, not in the same way that she was friends with Evelien or Macey, and certainly not in the same way she had been friends with Alfred Cattermole, the Head Boy. And yet he had stood up for her when everyone else had just about given up. He had displayed an unwavering faith in her when everyone else had thought her guilty, despite the lack of evidence. And if he was willing to do that for someone that he knew, in his heart of hearts, he was hardly close to, then Teddy couldn't even begin to imagine how far he'd go for his best friends.

"Let's go," Teddy said quietly.

"What?" Ella exclaimed. "You're not seriously planning on storming into McGonagall's -"

"Micky-G," Riley interrupted.

"Shut up, Riley," Ella said, a little more harshly than she had probably intended. "You're not planning on storming into McGonagall's office and rescuing Bella Watson, are you? For one, what are you going to do with her, hide her in the Forbidden Forest until this has all washed over?"

"We'll wait outside," Teddy said.

Ella opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. "Oh. Well. I suppose you could."

It didn't take long to win Ella over. Victoire was rather eager to come too, on account of her quite liking Bella Watson even though she'd never properly spoken to her before, and although Riley had rolled her eyes and said that she had much better things to do with her time, she had decided to tag along as well. Teddy had a feeling that though Riley Carrow often put up quite a moan about having to do things with people other than Victoire, she actually cared, deep down somewhere. If only she didn't keep it such a secret from herself and the people around her, she might actually be a nice person to be around.

If only.

He sympathised with her, but that didn't mean that he had to be overly fond of her.

"I hope she's okay," Alfie kept muttering at regular intervals. Each time he said it, Ella rolled her eyes, as if she couldn't believe that Alfie was showing so much worry over someone she thought was far out of his reach, but Teddy felt sorry for him. He knew how much Alfie cared - not just about Bella, but about anyone he considered his friend. Alfie Hayes was the kind of person who put his whole heart and soul into anything or anyone he believed in. He hoped for his sake that everything worked out alright.

The moment they turned into the corridor in which the gargoyle that led to McGonagall's office was located, Alfie let out a small yelp. Bella Watson was coming down the stairs, her long hair flowing behind her. Though Teddy doubted she had slept much last night, her face did not show any sign of exhaustion; her eyes were bright, her cheeks were shining and her lips were tinted slightly red (the latter, Teddy thought, was probably the result of make-up).

"Bella!" Alfie exclaimed. "Are you alright? We were coming to see if you were alright, because we heard that you had been called in to see Professor McGonagall, and we wanted to testify that you were innocent and -"

"Does he realise he's babbling?" Ella whispered to Teddy, who shrugged.

Bella laughed. "Oh, Alfie, that's so sweet of you! That's so sweet of all of you." She smiled at them, and despite themselves, they all smiled back, even Riley. "I'm touched that you would care so much about what happened to me."

"Well," Alfie said, "you are our Head Girl." He froze suddenly. "At least … well, you still are, aren't you?"

"Yes," Bella nodded, and Teddy let out a sigh of relief. "I'm still Head Girl, and Professor Macmillan is still the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and the Head of Hufflepuff. Laura Shipkins, on the other hand, has been stripped of her position on the second-string Quidditch team, and has to serve detention every night until the end of term."

"So McGonagall believed you?" Ella said.

"She did."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean in any way to suggest that she shouldn't believe you, but .. why?"

"That's no problem, Ella." The blonde paused for a second, as if rehashing the morning's events in her mind. "I don't really know how she did it, honestly. Had I been in her position, I don't know whether I wouldn't have believed me. But she spoke with me and Professor Macmillan, and then she called in Laura Shipkins. The next thing I know, Laura's coming out of the room, sobbing. Apparently she confessed."

"She did?" Teddy exclaimed, surprised. Laura Shipkins didn't seem like the kind of person who would give in so easily, especially not where Bella was concerned, but he suspected that Professor McGonagall could scare anything out of anyone when she wanted to.

"She said she made it all up. I don't know how Professor McGonagall got her to admit it, but I'm glad that she did." Bella paused for a few moments, before speaking up again, choosing each word with a great deal of care. "You know, I won't pretend that Laura and I are best friends. I don't think I can ever really be friends with her, not after what she's done. But I do feel sorry for her. I don't know what's happened to her in her life that she feels like she needs to act this way towards me. Maybe, if things had gone differently, if she'd been different, we'd have been friends, and I could have helped her. But it's too late for that now." She turned to Alfie, her blue eyes settling on his green ones. "Macey told me what you did, Alfie. Thank you for standing up for me and believing in me."

Alfie's cheeks turned pink and he smiled. "That's what friends do, Bella. They help each other."

"I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything," Alfie said earnestly, and Teddy felt his heart warm. This was what he loved about Alfie - he did wonderful things for other people, and never expected anything in return. It was so rare in today's world of give-and-take to find someone who gave unconditionally.

The sides of Bella's mouth curved upwards; Teddy was glad to see that the light had returned to her eyes, and that she looked much like the old Bella Watson again, back before Laura Shipkins had started this whole mess. The Head Girl leaned forward, and kissed Alfie on the cheek. It was just a tiny peck, and lasted barely a second, but Alfie turned a bright shade of scarlet - brighter than Teddy had ever seen, which was saying something, considering that Alfie turned tomato red fairly frequently. He was vaguely aware of Ella's mouth dropping open, and of Victoire trying to stifle a giggle.

Bella drew herself up to her full height again, and glanced at the five. "Well," she said, "I should be going. Thank you for coming to check on me."

"No problem," Teddy said. Alfie seemed rather unable to speak.

Bella turned to go, but seemed to hesitate halfway through and turned back. A few awkward moments passed where they were staring at one another, both unsure of what to say next — Teddy because he truly did not know what Bella wanted, and Bella because she didn't know how to phrase her sentiments. At last, however, words came to her.

"It's not too late for her you know."

"Laura?" Ella asked, her dark eyebrows knotting together in an expression of puzzlement. "I thought you said it was."

"No, not Laura. Her sister. Daisy. I know that you don't like her very much — well, I don't know about you—" she gestured to Victoire and Riley " — but I know that you three don't get on very well with her, and if she's anything like her sister, which I know she is, I can't say I blame you. But I would hate to see her go down the same path as Laura. Just … I don't know what you can do, but if you ever feel like there's anything you can do for her … do it."

Teddy watched Bella walk away, his mind still processing what she had said. He'd never thought of Laura Shipkins as someone to feel sorry for — ever since he'd joined Hogwarts, he'd known her as a despicable bully, someone who was consistently green-eyed with envy and would do anything to elevate herself at the cost of others. Daisy had never been so bad — she'd been petty, yes, but in comparison to her sister, she'd seemed tame. And yet Teddy couldn't help but think about all the awful things she'd done to Matilda this term. Was that how Laura started out?

He didn't like Daisy Shipkins, but that didn't mean that he wanted her to degenerate into nothing more than a jealous, mean-spirited girl who spread malicious rumours.

"Wow," Victoire said. "Just …"

"Wow," Riley finished quietly for her. "She's saddled you three with quite a task there. Turn Daisy Shipkins into a good person."

"I don't know how she expects us to do it," Ella said grumpily. She didn't seem at all thrilled with the idea. "As far as I'm concerned, there's no good in Daisy Shipkins at all. Right, Teddy?"

"Hm," Teddy said absentmindedly. It wasn't a topic he particularly wanted to discuss just yet, for he was still processing, still trying to form his thoughts, and he didn't want to express them prematurely. "Did anyone think Laura would be punished so harshly?" he said instead, trying to change the subject. "Detention every night until the end of term. That's what — a month and a half? And it's N.E.W.T. year too."

"She's not going to have much fun, that's for sure," Ella said grimly.

"When my dad and uncles and aunties were here, things were really different," Victoire commented. "They got away with all sorts of stuff — a boy in my dad's year once hung another boy by his feet from the chandelier in the Great Hall, and he only got fifty points taken from Gryffindor."

"I guess things have gotten a lot stricter," Ella mused.

Teddy couldn't help but steal a glance at Riley. The Slytherin seemed to have shrunk in size, and her lips were clamped together tightly, forming a thin line. There was an air of discomfort around her. Her green eyes met his, and for a moment, it was as if the careful guard that she maintained disappeared.

Victoire noticed the two of them, their eyes locked together. She smiled in a blatant attempt to lighten the mood, but there was a definite undertone of uneasiness that filtered through. Riley flicked her eyes away, and Teddy shifted from one foot to the other. Ella began to hum under her breath in an effort to distract herself. Only Alfie remained oblivious, standing in front of them as if he was in an entirely different dimension, separated from them by some sort of invisible, soundproof barrier.

They all knew why the rules had gotten stricter. And they all knew that it was because of something that happened to Riley Carrow four years ago.

.oOo.

 _III: The remaining Shipkins sister_

Daisy Shipkins was the kind of girl who liked to be constantly surrounded by other people. She took her solace in knowing that she wasn't alone, that other people wanted to be with her, that they admired her and wanted to be just like her. She liked to think that she was the top of the food chain; she liked to believe that she could do whatever she wanted, and others would follow. And though she often felt threatened by someone or the other, though she often felt insecure, she had never, ever felt like this.

Completely and utterly worthless.

She didn't quite know where she was — only that she was somewhere near the dungeons, and somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. She was _supposed_ to be in first period Charms, but how could she sit amongst her peers and act like everything was normal when her sister had just been given detention for the entire term?

Daisy's sister was everything to her, and now McGonagall had brought her down to a new low, and it was all thanks to Bella Watson. In hindsight, Laura should have known not to go up against Bella, she should have known that it would end like this. Laura always knew how things would end, and she always knew how to pick her battles perfectly. It was a shock for Daisy to realise that her sister, no matter how wonderful she was, was not perfect.

 _Detention every night_.

Would anyone ever trust Laura again? Would anyone except Daisy ever look at her in the same way?

And most of all, would anyone trust Daisy?

She'd already been abandoned by Giovanna. She'd driven Matilda away. She still had Morna, but who knew how long she'd cling on? She knew deep down that all she needed to do was apologise to Matilda and Giovanna, but she was too proud to admit that she was in the wrong. She would rather become a social outcast than say she was sorry, because to say sorry was an indubitable sign of weakness.

And no matter what people told her, she was not weak.

"I am the strongest person I know," she whispered to herself, tracing patterns on the soft skin of her palm.

"Miss Shipkins?"

She started and looked up. Standing above her was Professor Smith, his dark eyebrows knotted together in puzzlement, confusion and worry. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be in class? I don't believe fifth years have free periods."

Daisy shook her head, suddenly unable to speak. Of all the teachers who could have found her, it had to be the one she liked the most. "I'm fine, Professor," she said, finding her voice and forcing a smile. "I'm fine."

"No, Miss Shipkins, I don't believe you are." He hesitated for a few moments before dusting off his robes and sitting down next to her. "I heard about what happened to your sister."

Despite herself, Daisy snorted. "Hasn't everyone?"

"I'm truly sorry."

"Why?" Daisy said bitterly. "Don't you believe she deserved it?"

She could feel the professor's eyes on her, searching her face for something. He must have found it, for he said, "No. I would appreciate if you kept this between us, Miss Shipkins—"

"Of course."

"— but I believe that your sister was most unjustly treated. Children spread rumours all the time. Why, the things that used to go around when I was in school were much worse than the things that your sister said. Detention until the end of the term, that too with Mr Knobbles, who I understand is perhaps not the kindest of people —"

"No kidding."

" — is unfair, for it is nowhere listed in the school rules as an appropriate punishment for this sort of situation."

"Really?"

"Really," Smith said, sighing. "But I am afraid there is nothing we can do. It would be pointless to go up against Professor McGonagall.

"She's a dictator," Daisy grumbled.

"You must watch what you say about the Headmistress," Smith said, but there was a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "I'm sorry about your sister, Daisy. If you need to talk, please know that my office is open. I know I'm not your Head of House, but something tells me it would be somewhat … inappropriate, shall we say, to speak with _him_ on this matter."

Daisy smiled. "No kidding. Thanks, Professor."

"My pleasure," he said, and Daisy was once again taken in by just how magnetic his grin was. "And now, I believe you should be getting back to class. You will find this useful." He slid a hand into his robes and withdrew an infirmary pass from one of his many pockets. He handed it to Daisy, and winked at her. "And remember, I never saw you, and you never saw me."

 _.oOo._

 _IV. The slap_

They say that every person in the world is separated from each other by a maximum of six degrees. If this is to be accepted as true, then it must also be hypothesised that every person at Hogwarts is separated by a maximum of two or three degrees. It is a small school, and as in all small places (towns, offices, countries), almost everyone knew each other, and they were all intimately familiar with the local affairs. Or rather, gossip.

The knowledge that Laura Shipkins was being severely punished for spreading rumours about Bella Watson percolated across the school within hours, and before the end of the day, every single student knew about it. It was a hot topic of conversation at the dinner table, and wherever Laura went, she was followed by whispers, stares and pointed fingers.

But small as it may be, news moved quickly at Hogwarts. No one lingered on the same thing for very long, and within a few days, the craze began to die down and life resumed as normal. The weather had begun to cool down quite significantly; a cold wind from the north was passing over Scotland, causing the leaves on the trees to quiver and drop off, and the grass to be covered with a thin layer of dew. It became impossible to leave one's common room without first layering up in warm undergarments, thick cloaks and scarves.

Victoire Weasley, in particular, hated the cold. For one, it always made her ears feel like they were going to fall off, and her nose ended up looking a bit like a strawberry ripe for picking. She hated being cooped up indoors all day, for it made her feel claustrophobic and, quite frankly, a bit sick.

Therefore, when by some miracle of nature the sun was bright and shining the next Saturday, she jumped at the opportunity to spend time outside. She was supposed to meet Riley Carrow in the library for a few solid hours of studying, but instead practically dragged her out to the lawn by the Great Lake, arguing that the fresh air would do a lot of good for their studies.

That was where they were now. Victoire had her robes loosely buttoned, allowing them to flow around her. Every now and then, a gentle breeze wafted through the air, and lifted up her golden curls, tickling her nose ever so slightly. The sun felt warm against her pale skin, and though she knew that she'd probably end up with more freckles by the end of the day (she always forgot to wear the sunscreen that her mother had bought for her), she didn't quite care.

Riley lay on her stomach near her, her nose stuck in a book. She was wearing a pair of large black-rimmed glasses, and kept pushing them up her nose. Riley didn't normally wear glasses — it was only when she had a lot of reading to do that she liked to put them on to prevent her eyes from being strained. Every now and then, she glanced at the piece of parchment by her side and picked up her quill to scribble down something. When she put her quill down again after copying out a particularly long sentence, Victoire noticed a long, elegant birch wand lying on the grass next to her,

"That's new," she commented. "I haven't seen that before, have I?"

Riley glanced down at the wand and shook her head. "Nope. Just got this morning in the mail."

"Why? What happened to your old one?"

"Didn't I tell you?" the Slytherin looked up at her blankly. "It went missing."

"You lost your wand?"

Riley shrugged as if it didn't bother her in the least — something Victoire found fairly unusual. If she had lost her wand, she would have been quaking in her ballet flats, mainly in anticipation of the Howler that her mother would surely send. Fleur Delacour-Weasley was always complaining about what a disappointment her eldest daughter was. "Ees she even a girl?" she often shrieked when Victoire had lost something. "Never pays any attention to detail, zat one."

"Riles?" Victoire prodded.

"I think I lost it," she said. "I left it in the Slytherin common room two nights ago when I went to get a book from my dormitory, and then I got distracted talking to Iris Fawley. By the time I got back, the House Elves had finished sweeping, and it was gone. They must have accidentally swept it up."

"Didn't you ask them if they had it?"

Riley shrugged. "If they had, they'd probably have gotten rid of it lest someone think they stole it."

Victoire hesitated, and then said, "You don't suppose someone else stole it?"

At this, Riley looked rather puzzled. She considered Victoire for a moment, her head tilted to the side, before she said, "Why would anyone steal my wand?"

"You know… for the same reasons that they would attack you in the corridor."

"Oh," Riley said. She tried to play it off and sound as casual as possible, but Victoire knew her too well for that. Riley had been badly affected by the incident that had occurred after the Hallowe'en feast — she had been shaken up the morning after when she'd approached Victoire before breakfast and asked if they could go somewhere private to talk. As she'd told her about the events that had passed, Victoire had felt something growing inside her stomach, an unusual feeling, that she had realised was anger. She was glad that Riley had trusted her enough to tell her, because it meant that they had overcome the issues that they had been having in earlier months, but she was also furious at the boys who thought that hanging a fourteen-year-old upside down in a corridor was acceptable. Thank goodness both boys had been suspended for a week; they had both stayed at Hogwarts and been made to work with Knobbles instead of attending their regular classes. If it had been up to her, though, Victoire would have assigned a much, much worse punishment. As far as she was concerned, Cyrus Teller and his Ravenclaw friend were the real scum.

Speak of the devil.

Teller had appeared nearby with one of his friends — a tall, gangly Gryffindor. They were talking and laughing like any two people might on a warm day like this. Victoire's eyes narrowed unconsciously, and she felt that same shot of anger run through her. Bile burned the back of her throat, and she felt her nails dig into the soft skin of her palms.

Teller caught sight of her, and visibly paled. Taking his friend's arm, they moved away until they were out of Victoire's sight. The blonde's piercing blue eyes followed them as they disappeared behind a set of trees. _Good riddance_.

"What was that about?" Riley's voice rang out, breaking Victoire's concentration. She turned her head so that she was facing Riley; her mouth dropped open ever so slightly as she tried to come up with a quick excuse.

Nothing. She wished Teddy was here — whenever they got in trouble back home, he was always the one who managed to weasel them both out of it.

"Victoire?" said Riley, her tone combining worry and frustration. "What did you do?" She sounded like she was talking to a particularly naughty dog.

"I … er … nothing!" Victoire exclaimed hurriedly, forcing out a laugh that sounded rather like a horse neighing. "I did nothing! I don't have any idea what you're talking about, no, siree!"

Riley quirked an eyebrow, and Victoire could feel herself flushing rather red. _No, siree_? What was _wrong_ with her — she sounded like that orphan boy who'd gotten mixed up with a gang in London in that muggle book her Aunt Hermione had given her to read. Why was she such a _bad_ liar? She resolved to get Teddy to give her lessons in the art of deception; he was so _good_ at it.

"What did you do?" the other girl repeated, each word carefully enunciated, giving her an overall menacing tone. "Why does Cyrus Teller looks like he's seen a banshee when he looks at you?"

"Nothing," Victoire squeaked. "I — okay, I _may_ have … um … confronted Teller after you told me about what happened. And I … I _may_ have slapped him."

"You what?" Riley exclaimed loudly, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open. "Oh my goodness, Victoire, you _didn't_."

"Of course I did!" Victoire said rather obstinately. "He hurt you, didn't he? And I wanted to let him know that that's not acceptable. I'd have slapped his buddy too, but I haven't seen him."

"You slapped him," Riley said incredulously. "You _slapped_ him."

"I slapped him."

Riley didn't look angry at all — Victoire hadn't told her, because she'd been worried that Riley wouldn't have liked what she had done, and wouldn't tell her things anymore. But there was something in the way that Riley looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and admiration that told her that she'd been completely wrong.

"Tell me it was a good slap."

"Oh, yes," Victoire nodded grimly, though there was a definite hint of a smile in her eyes. "It resounded throughout the Gryffindor common room. Everyone shut up, and he was just there holding his cheek — I left quite a nasty mark."

At this, Riley laughed. It was a wonderful sound, Victoire thought, light and musical and _genuine_. "You're a firecracker, you know that?"

"I like to think of myself as one of those blazing bonfire-type things where my friends are concerned," Victoire said, grinning. "One wrong step, and you'll get burned. Badly. It'll leave a scar."

"Oh my goodness, do you think Teller has a scar?" Riley grabbed Victoire's arm. "Do you think you knocked his teeth out?'

"I _wish_ I'd knocked his teeth out!"

"Can you imagine Teller without teeth?"

"There's probably a way to grow them back though."

"We could hex them so that they never grow back!"

"Great idea! You hold him down, I'll perform the spell."

"Can you put a Bat-Bogey Hex on him while you're at it? Or what about that story you told me about your Uncle Ron vomiting slugs — do you think you could make him vomit slugs?"

The two girls collapsed in laughter, clutching each other's arms. Victoire's stomach began to ache, but it was nothing like how she felt when she was sick or angry. It was like the butterflies in her stomach were being set free; she felt light and warm and happy.

"Honestly, though," Riley said, once they were both able to breathe again. "Thank you."

Victoire smiled at her. "What are best friends for?"

.oOo.

 _V. Chocolate orange_

Everyone else might have gotten over the debacle between Bella Watson and Laura Shipkins but Alfie Hayes most certainly had not. Two weeks later, he was still stalking about it - Teddy thought that the moment at which Bella had leaned down to kiss him on his cheek had been engraved in his memory forever, quite like a potent childhood event. He didn't think Alfie was ever going to get over it.

That evening, he and Alfie were sitting with Ella underneath the biggest oak tree by the Great Lake. Alfie had just finished Quidditch practice, and was going on and on about a wonderful new maneuver that Macey had shown them. "It was _so_ difficult," he said. "Only Bella was able to do it."

Ella groaned, as if she knew exactly what was coming next.

"I still can't believe she kissed me."

"For _Merlin's_ sake, Alfie," Ella sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's been two weeks. Two. Weeks. She hasn't kissed you since then, has she?"

Alfie went rather pink. "No."

"So why must you _keep going on about -"_

"Guys," Teddy said, softly but firmly in an attempt to relieve the tension amongst them, "calm down, would you?"

Alfie gave Ella a stern look, though there was mirth in his eyes. "Yeah, Ella, calm down."

Ella missed the joke. "For _God's_ sake-"

"Ella," Teddy said placatingly.

"Sorry," she grumbled, leaning back against the tree's trunk and folding her arms crossly in front of her. "I'm sorry. I'm just impatient."

"Impatient?"

"Dinner date with Leo," she said, tapping her watch expectantly, "in exactly ten minutes. So if you _want_ to talk about this - "

"We do."

"- then we need to get going."

"Right." Teddy rifled in his bag and extracted the rough notebook that he always carried around with him. He found it quite useful to have parchment available whenever he forgot one of his other books, or needed to scribble something down; he was completely useless with loose sheets, for he was always misplacing them. "Let's talk then. Alfie and I brainstormed last night, and this is what we came up with." He flipped to a page that was covered in his handwriting, and handed it to Ella who scanned it quickly.

Ever since Ella had figured out that everything that had happened - the kidnappings, the marks in London, the warnings in Hogsmeade - was linked to Hogwarts, the trio had been doing their best to try and find some sort of solid evidence behind her theory. Ella didn't want to go to the Aurors unless she was entirely sure that there was something meaningful that either proved her theory or that led to something else, and Teddy was determined to help her find it. He believed that no matter how little proof they had, the Aurors should know what they had figured out. For all he knew, they already had some kind of evidence that when paired with Ella's theory would shed significant light on the case, but Ella wasn't willing to see his point, and he wasn't willing to go behind her back.

Ella had decided that the first thing that they needed to do was figure out how the person (or people) behind the attacks in London had known which houses to target. She had theorised that day in the library that it might have been linked to the Hogwarts record books, but she hadn't been entirely sure, so the trio had spent the last couple of weeks researching forms of wizarding registration. It had taken them a long time - firstly because there wasn't much information on the topic in the library, and secondly because they had been so overloaded with homework (and Alfie with Quidditch practice) that they had barely had any time to themselves.

Alfie and Teddy had, at last, managed to go to the library last night, and had spent time going over a number of books in detail, trying to come up with ideas as to how 'The Perpetrator', as Ella had dubbed the mysterious figures behind the events, had gotten hold of the information that he or she had needed.

"This is good," Ella said at last.

"You think?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding, "I was actually thinking along the same lines. The Ministry has an Administrative Registration Department that lists wizarding households and number of wizards in each one. It wouldn't be -"

"- hard for the Perpetrator to figure out which houses had muggleborns," Teddy finished for her. "There'd only be one wizard at the address, and that wizard would be listed as being under seventeen."

"That does eliminate the Hogwarts connection though," Ella pointed out.

"How?" Alfie asked. "The wizards are all at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, but it means that the Perpetrator didn't break into Hogwarts to check the book that we know registers all wizards with magical blood - that one that's mentioned in _Hogwarts: A History_ \- what's it called? The Book of Admittance, that's it."

"They could have," Teddy pointed out. "They might have cross-checked the Hogwarts book with the Ministry, just to make sure that they were hitting the right people."

Ella's brow furrowed slightly. "That feels redundant though."

Teddy had to admit, it seemed redundant to him too. There was no real need to double check that the person was magical - they wouldn't be listed in the Ministry's directory unless they were. "True," he said. "What do you think, Alfie?"

Silence. Teddy craned his neck around to look at his friend. He was staring off into the distance, his green eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He appeared to be squinting at something in particular but when Teddy followed his gaze, he was unable to see anything out of the ordinary.

"Alfie?"

"Please don't tell me he's dreaming about Bella Watson again," Ella muttered under his breath.

"I'm not," Alfie said quietly. "I'm ... " he trailed off uncertainly.

Ella sighed and glanced at her watch. "Would you hurry up? I'm going to be late."

"It's just… well, what if they didn't cross-check the Ministry records with the Book of - what did you say it was called?"

"Admittance."

"Right."

Teddy's eyebrows furrowed together. "What are you trying to say?"

Alfie took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that they might not have needed to use the Book of Admittance. Or the Ministry records at all. You wanted a connection to Hogwarts, Ella - what if the Perpetrator figured out who was muggleborn and who wasn't from their existing knowledge of Hogwarts students?"

Silence. The force of what Alfie had said crept up on Teddy slowly, washing over him like a wave hitting the shore. Surely he must be wrong, Teddy thought, for if he was right that would mean that -

"Are you saying that someone at _Hogwarts_ is responsible?" Ella said. Her voice was quiet, but there was an evident undertone of shock and trepidation, as if she didn't quite want to believe what Alfie was saying. "That someone who knows all the students well - like a Professor - is responsible for all this?"

"Not responsible," Alfie said quickly. "Just… caught up in it."

"No," Teddy said, shaking his head vehemently and trying his best to ignore the horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach. His shoulders were stiff, and he could feel the muscles in his upper back begin to ache; he didn't want to think about it, he wouldn't think about it. "Every professor here… they all love the students. Can you imagine anyone doing _anything_ like this? Even Knobbles … he's horrible, but he's not _that_ horrible."

All three friends remained silent. The wind had died down, and it was so still that Teddy felt almost claustrophobic. He didn't like what Alfie had said. He didn't like the implication that someone at Hogwarts could be involved in all of this horridness. Hogwarts was his second home; he trusted each and every person here. How could anyone - professor or student - even _think_ of doing something like this?

Suddenly an image of an eleven-year-old in torn Slytherin robes being carried out of the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid flashed into his mind. The girl was unconscious, her brown hair was matted and her forehead was bloody. There were raw scratches on her exposed skin.

He remembered Victoire's nails digging into the flesh on his arm, he remembered her scream, he remembered wanting to cover her eyes and protect her, for no one should ever have to see a friend in that sort of state.

He remembered the expulsion that followed.

Ella glanced at him and swallowed. She seemed to be thinking of the same thing. "People have done similar things before," she said quietly. "We all remember what happened to Riley."

"How could we forget?" Teddy said quietly.

.oOo.

 _VI. Linchpin_

It was a cold night. Temperatures had dropped to well below freezing, and most Hogsmeade residents were curled up indoors under blankets and by their fireplace. Auror Tilly Castrade was one of the lone individuals outside, roaming the streets, her hand gripping her wand tightly as she moved, watching carefully for anything out of the norm.

Not that there _was_ anything out of the norm. Tilly was one of the few in the department who believed that Tabitha James had gone somewhat mad; patrols in Hogsmeade felt unnecessary and a waste of resources, what with everything else going on. She was merely trying to compensate for the fact that she didn't have a lead.

Tilly felt bad for her. She quite liked Tabitha — admired her, even — but not making any progress on a case of this magnitude had to be awfully frustrating. Tilly was glad that she hadn't been put on it — she didn't think that she could've handled the emotional baggage that came with a case like this.

"Poor kids," she mumbled under her breath. Her words formed tiny puffs of vapour and floated through the air, slowly dispersing until at last, they dissipated.

"Hey you," someone exclaimed, making Tilly start. She turned around to see a middle-aged wizard standing behind her, his arms folded. "Whatchu doin' out on a night like this? You not doin' any trouble, are ya?"

"No, sir," Tilly replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her badge. She held it up for him to see — even in the dim light, the silver A was clearly visible. "I'm an Auror, sir. Just doing my job."

His eyes narrowed. "On your way then."

Tilly nodded once and turned around again, trying to shake the unsettled feeling in her stomach. She checked her wristwatch, an old, scratched leather thing that had been given to her on her seventeenth birthday. It cut into her skin ever-so-slightly, but she had never taken it off and never would. It meant too much to her.

The time read eight-thirty. She had finished her shift.

Sighing, Tilly walked towards the Three Broomsticks, shuffling her feet against the gravel. She pushed the heavy wooden door open and let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as she entered. The Three Broomsticks was, to her, a place of comfort, a home base for her this far north. It was a sign that she was done for the day, that she could Apparate back down south to her home, to her husband.

Auror Clare Newman was waiting inside the pub, leaning against the bar. She smiled when she saw Tilly and walked over to her. "All quiet on the Western front?"

Tilly's brow furrowed. "Sorry?"

Clare's smile dropped slightly, and she waved her hand. "Muggle expression. Sorry."

"Right." Clare was a muggleborn, and though she had been immersed in the wizarding world since she was eleven, there was something about her mannerisms that remained intrinsically muggle. Tilly supposed it was a result of living with her muggle parents — she couldn't help but wonder what that was like, living with the two people who were supposed to be close to you, and yet were so far away. She thanked her stars that both her parents were wizards.

"What I meant to ask was if anything unusual happened," Clare prompted.

Tilly shrugged. "Nah. It's Hogsmeade on a November night. What do you expect to happen?"

"December," Clare corrected quietly. "It's the first of December."

"Whatever," Tilly said, a wave of irritation washing over her. Clare was awfully aggravating. She seemed to think that she knew everything and always took it upon herself to correct everyone else.

"Well, I suppose I should—"

Clare was interrupted when the door opened, letting in a whoosh of cold air. It slammed closed and standing in front of it, was the man that had spoken to Tilly five minutes ago in the street. His face had changed somewhat — instead of suspicion in his eyes, there was fear. "You the Auror?" he said frantically.

"Yes, sir," Tilly said, ignoring the confused look Clare was giving her.

"She an Auror too?" He jerked his hair towards Clare, who nodded and moved her cloak aside so that her badge, attached to her trouser belt, was visible.

"Yes, sir."

"You need to see this." Without any further explanation, he ran outside.

"Should we —" Clare began, but Tilly had already taken off. The two Aurors exited the pub, and rounded the corner. The man was standing in the middle of the street, staring up at the sky, an expression of gobsmacked horror on his face. Clare followed his gaze and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. Tilly bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood and glanced upwards.

The sky was dark; black, like ink. No moon, barely any stars. Only a single source of light illuminated the village, giving it a greenish glow.

A skull and a snake, drawn in the sky out of putrid green smoke.

The dark mark, cast in the air for the first time since the fall of Voldemort.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter - it was one of my favourites to write! The next update will be in **three weeks** rather than two, because I'm heading back to university and therefore the next few weeks promise to be crazy (and these chapters are massive). So I'll see you all on the 12th of October!


	11. Chapter 11: The Ties That Bind

**Chapter Eleven: The Ties That Bind**

 _I: Hogsmeade_

" _Hogsmeade_ , Hogsmeade, Hogsmeade, _Hogsmeade_!" Victoire Weasley sang, skipping down the corridor. "Aren't you _excited_ , Teddy?"

Teddy watched her, amused. "Not quite as excited as you are."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Hogwarts as much as the next person, but there's something about being stuck in here for weeks on end without really being able to _go_ anywhere that gets to me." A shudder ran through her shoulders. "What can I say? I've got wanderlust!"

"Wanderlust," Teddy repeated, grinning. "Right."

She turned around to smile at him. "Are you doubting me, Lupin?"

Teddy feigned shock. "Doubt _you_ , Weasley? Never."

They reached the Great Hall. Much to Teddy's surprise, there were quite a few students clustered in front of the noticeboard, whispering and muttering things amongst themselves. Teddy saw both Matilda and Giovanna, but they didn't notice him; Matilda's eyebrows were furrowed together and she was saying something to Giovanna, whose lips were pressed together in a thin line. He wondered what was going on, and resolved to talk to Matilda later - he hoped that Daisy hadn't been bullying her again, though it was unlikely, for no one had seen or heard much of Daisy Shipkins of late.

Teddy and Victoire made their way over to the Hufflepuff table, where Alfie and Ella were already sitting. Alfie was helping himself to a slice of toast so thickly coated in butter and jam that the bread was barely visible; Ella, on the other hand, was sitting quietly, picking at a strawberry. They weren't speaking - Ella was instead rather immersed in the newspaper in front of her.

"What's up?" Teddy asked, sliding into a chair next to Alfie. Victoire went around the table and sat next to Ella, surreptitiously peering over the Ravenclaw's shoulder to see what she was reading. Ella, who strongly disliked this, moved slightly, blocking Victoire's view.

"Ella's been reading that newspaper for the last five minutes," Alfie said grumpily. "She hasn't even turned the front page."

"That's because the front page is the most interesting," Ella murmured.

"She speaks!"

"Oh, shut up, would you?" She glanced up and shot him a glare. "It's not like we're in a rush or anything."

"Yes, we are," Victoire said, heaping French toast onto her plate. "Hogsmeade weekend, remember? It's bad enough that Riley's not here, she's going to make us late."

Ella gave Victoire a funny look. "We're not going to Hogsmeade."

"What?" Teddy and Victoire exclaimed in unison. "Why?"

"Didn't you see? McGonagall put up a notice on the board outside the Great Hall. Something happened." She pushed the newspaper towards Victoire. The blonde's mouth dropped open and she turned it towards Alfie and Teddy, who scanned the headline with a mixture of shock and horror. Teddy felt his insides turn cold.

No.

His uncle Harry had said that it would never happen again. The spell, the incantation for the mark had been lost at the end of the war; nearly everyone who knew it had either been killed or was locked away in Azkaban.

So how was it that it had been cast above Hogsmeade?

"I didn't think anyone knew how to cast it anymore," Victoire said quietly.

"Not entirely true," Ella said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "There are some former death eaters who got off with a pardon, and there was never certainty as to whether those who were under the Imperius Curse at the time of the war could remember the incantation. Or whether death eaters passed on their knowledge of the incantation to family mem-"

"What are you implying?" Victoire cut in sharply.

Ella held up her hands. "Nothing! Nothing."

"Good."

"Still," Ella said, shaking her head, "this doesn't bode well for her."

"Who?" Alfie interjected.

"Riley. Everyone knows her uncle and aunt were death eaters. I don't like to think about what they might say now."

"She can't really take any more," Victoire said quietly. "It's no wonder that she's not here - someone must have told her." She glanced at the French toast on her plate, and then up at Teddy. There was a strange amount of desperation and deep concern in her blue eyes. Sighing, she pushed her chair back and got up. "I should go," she said. "Riley needs me now."

"Where is she?"

Victoire shrugged. "I don't know. But I have to find out."

Part of Teddy wanted Victoire to sit down again, wanted her to realise that if Riley wasn't there, she probably didn't want to talk, but he knew that Victoire would be antsy all day if she didn't find her friend. He might not have liked Riley too much, but he knew how much she meant to Victoire and he knew how this situation might end up affecting her. If Victoire felt as if she had to go, she had to go.

"Tell her if she needs us, we're here," Alfie said staunchly. Teddy glanced at him; he wasn't aware that Alfie and Riley were particularly close, but then again, Alfie was incredibly loyal to his friends.

Victoire nodded once. "I guess I'll see you later," she said, before running off. Teddy watched her go, his feelings still mixed. He could only hope that she found Riley, and that Riley didn't shut her out again.

Once she was gone, Teddy glanced surreptitiously around them. Most students upon finding out that the Hogsmeade trip was cancelled had retreated back to their dormitories, eager to catch a couple more hours of precious sleep. Therefore, the Hufflepuff table was fairly empty - a few third years were sitting several seats down from the trio, but they were talking so loudly amongst themselves that Teddy sincerely doubted that they could hear what anyone else was saying. He gave Alfie a meaningful look and both boys leaned in so that they were close to Ella and could speak without being overheard.

Ella gave them both an odd look. "What? Why are you invading my personal space?"

"Ella," Teddy hissed. "You need to tell Tabitha James."

"What?"

"You _know_ what. Your theory."

Ella looked hesitant. "Teddy, I still don't have any evidence -"

"I don't care!" Teddy said, surprising himself with his own ferocity and conviction. "The _dark mark,_ Ella - it's gone up over Hogsmeade. Do you know what this means?"

"That these people, whoever they are, are bad," she said slowly. "It means that they're not just playing around - they have resources, or they have access to people with resources."

"Could they be former death eaters?" Alfie asked.

Teddy shrugged. "Could be. Whoever they are, Ella, your theory might help the Aurors. You need to tell Tabitha James!"

"Tell Tabitha James what?"

Teddy glanced up to see a Gryffindor seventh year standing just behind Ella. He was watching them bemusedly, his hands on his hips and his right eyebrow quirked. Teddy recognised him immediately — his name was Peter Rose, and he was the Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Alfie had always said that he was a brilliant player, the kind who was likely to go professional after he graduated.

"Hi Peter!" Alfie said loudly in an attempt to change the subject. "Good to see you, man! _Great_ goal against Slytherin last week."

"Thanks, Hayes," the Gryffindor grinned. "You did pretty well yourself in the match against Ravenclaw." He turned to Ella. "I've always wondered how you two manage to stay such good friends . He gives your house such a whooping whenever he plays against them."

Ella, who looked rather like a deer in the headlights, let out a short, barking laugh quite unlike any sound Teddy had ever heard her make before. "Yes, well…"

"What's this about Tabitha James then?" Peter repeated.

"Oh," Teddy said hesitantly, "you know…" He glanced at Alfie and Ella worriedly; he wasn't about to tell some boy he barely knew about Ella's theory, but he couldn't for the life of him seem to come up with a convincing story and Peter Rose did not seem as if he was about to let it be. "Ella was just thinking of telling Tabitha James that she…er …"

"That she what?" Terence Gates appeared, and Teddy felt a wave of irritation — or was it anger? — rush through him. _Great_. As if the situation wasn't bad enough already, Gates just had to show up and make it ten times worse. "Hey, Peter. Thought I'd come see why you were hanging around with these losers."

Peter Rose gave Terence a look, but he didn't say anything.

"Do you really think Tabitha James will believe anything _you_ say, Anderson?" Terence said, raising a pale blonde eyebrow at Ella, who turned very pink. "You're just a kid. She probably doesn't even know your name. Why would she even care about what you want to tell her?"

"She probably cares more about Ella than she does about you," Teddy said hotly.

Terence seemed unaffected by this. "Sure," he shrugged. "Whatever you say, Lupin. Come on, Peter."

As the two boys turned and walked away, Alfie let out a sigh of relief, obviously glad that they'd managed to manoeuvre their way out of a potentially damaging situation. Teddy, on the other hand, was fuming.

To tell Tabitha James about her theory, Ella would have to be confident in it. Thanks to Terence, all the confidence that Teddy had tried his best to instil in her had been tapered down.

There was no way Ella would go to the Aurors now.

.oOo.

 _II. Keep your friends close_

Back when Victoire Weasley's father, Bill, was at Hogwarts, it had not been the norm to know where each house's dormitory was located. You knew your own, and that was that, unless you had a particularly good friend from another house. Nowadays, things were rather different — Victoire had friends across all four houses, and knew exactly where each dormitory was within the castle. Therefore, it didn't take her long to get to the entrance to Slytherin dungeon. After all, she'd been many times before.

The one thing, however, that had remained the same was the protection given to each dormitory. While Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were arguably less secure, because anyone could tap out the appropriate rhythm on the bricks or answer the riddle, Gryffindor and Slytherin were impossible to breach unless you knew the password.

And though Victoire's best friend was a Slytherin, she had not shared the password with Victoire.

"Damn it," the blonde swore, standing just in front of the grey stone wall that she knew led into the common room. She tried to think — the password could be anything… perhaps it was something directly associated with the house?

"Snake!" she exclaimed.

The wall remained as it was.

"Too obvious," she muttered to herself under her breath, racking her brains. "Um… oh Merlin, what if it's in Parseltongue?"

"Unlikely, considering none of us are Parselmouths," came a female voice from behind her. Victoire spun around, startled, to come face to face with Riley's roommates, Hestia Witherspoon and Iris Fawley. Iris cocked her head to the side, giving her the appearance of a questioning dog. "Victoire? What are you doing here?"

"Me? I was just…"

She didn't know what had her so tongue-tied; it wasn't as if she had been doing anything wrong. And Hestia and Iris were nice girls — they were friends with Riley, and Victoire had spent time with them in classes before.

"Weasley?" Iris repeated.

"I just wanted to see Riley," the Gryffindor blurted. She noticed Iris and Hestia exchange looks, so she garbled on: "I know I'm technically not allowed in here, but I'm sure you've heard by now about the dark mark over Hogsmeade, and … "

"You've come to see whether Riley knows anything?" Hestia said accusingly, folding her dark arms in front of her.

"What?" Victoire exclaimed. "No! No! Goodness, Hestia, you know as well as I do that Riley knows nothing about any of this, but she thinks that people think that she does."

Hestia's face softened slightly, but she said nothing.

"I just want to make sure she's okay. This whole…" she waved her hand around, looking for an adequate descriptor, " _mess_ has been really tough on Riley— I mean, you guys share a room with her, you know that. And … well, she's my best friend, so… " she trailed off again. "Look, just let me in, would you please?"

"Victoire," Iris said quietly, "we can't do that."

"Why?" Victoire said, a little more demandingly than she'd wanted. It struck her all of a sudden how much she sounded like her mother when she was angry. "Riley's in there, isn't she?"

Iris sighed. "Yes, but we're not allowed to —"

"So what? That's my _friend_ , we're talking about — I should be allowed in!"

"It's against rules," Hestia stepped in. "No non-Slytherin can enter the Slytherin Dungeon and should we let you in, the Prefects will have our heads."

"That's a ridiculous rule!"

"Gryffindor has it too!" Hestia snapped. "Unless you lot are having a party, we're not allowed in. The number of times I've been in your position…" She trailed off, and Victoire suddenly remembered that Hestia was good friends with one of her roommates, Sophie White.

"Hestia," she pleaded.

"No," the Slytherin said firmly. "I'm sorry, Victoire."

Both girls turned away from Victoire, but Iris hesitated and turned back. "We could tell Riley that you're here. She can come out and talk to you."

 _Fat chance of that happening_ , Victoire thought. Riley wanted to be alone; it was unlikely that she'd take herself out of voluntary isolation just to talk to her. But she nodded anyway. "Yeah. That'd be great, thanks Iris."

Iris smiled and turned back. While she'd been talking to Victoire, Hestia had whispered the password and the passageway to the common room had been revealed. The two girls entered, and Victoire briefly considered sneaking in behind them, but decided that it would be too difficult — they'd know instantly, for there wasn't anywhere to hide in the passageway, and there was no point in destroying any goodwill that she had with the two girls.

Sighing as the passageway closed, she kicked a pebble near her foot down the hall. She didn't quite know what to do — there was no point waiting, really, for it wasn't as if Riley was about to come out. She might have been making progress lately as far as sharing things with Victoire went, but something told Victoire that what had happened in Hogsmeade would set Riley back.

And she didn't want that to happen. Riley had isolated herself for long enough, and Victoire felt like finally, after four years of friendship, she was getting past the wall that had always been between them. She didn't want to let Riley build that wall back up, especially not now. The kidnappings, the dark mark, the threats in London — it was all horrible and awful, but at least if Riley let her in, something slightly good would have come of it.

She checked her wristwatch. Five minutes had gone by since Iris and Hestia had entered the common room — surely long enough to go and find Riley and tell her that Victoire was waiting. And yet there was no sign of the brunette. Her heart sank slightly, but she supposed she shouldn't be disappointed. Four years outweighed four weeks, after all.

She turned to go, shuffling her feet against the floor, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Spinning around, a grin burst out when she saw Riley standing in front of the wall. Her hair was a mess — Victoire didn't think she'd even brushed it that morning — and her eyes were dull, but she forced a small smile. "You wanted to talk?"

Smiling widely, Victoire practically ran up to Riley and threw her arms around her. "Yes," she said, "I did."

 _.oOo._

 _III: And your enemies closer_

So far, Alfie Hayes was _not_ liking his fifth year at Hogwarts.

It wasn't that the work was hard (though it was). It was that it felt like something bad was happening every week without fail. The London incident, the threat in Hogsmeade, and now the dark mark… it was terrifying knowing that there were people out there who seemed to be targeting him.

Never before in his life had Alfie felt so insecure.

And when he walked into the Great Hall the next morning to see Tabitha James casually sitting at the faculty table, speaking with Professor McGonagall, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach grew even larger.

"Oh no," he whispered, almost involuntarily.

Why her? When she'd left after the London incident, he'd thought that she wouldn't come back, that maybe the case would be reassigned to someone else, especially considering her apparent failure to make any sort of headway.

Teddy, who was standing next to him, gave him an odd look. "What's the matter? Did you leave something behind?"

Alfie shook his head. "No," he said, his gaze still squarely focused on Tabitha. "No, I… I thought I had, but I'd actually… um, remembered it."

Teddy narrowed his eyes, and Alfie felt his heart sink slightly. Of course Teddy hadn't fallen for it - the problem with knowing someone for five years and spending almost every waking minute with them was that they were generally quite good at calling your bluff

"What was it that you thought you'd forgotten?"

Alfie panicked. "Um. Er." Why wasn't anything coming to mind? "My… um... " Crud!

Teddy quirked an eyebrow. "I thought as much. What's going on, Alfie?"

"Nothing!" Alfie protested, stealing a surreptious glance at Tabitha James, who was now helping herself to bacon. "Nothing."

"You keep looking at Tabitha James," Teddy noted. "Are you worried that she's back? Because quite honestly, Alfie, I think it's probably a good thing that the Auror department has some kind of presence at Hogwarts, what with our proximity to Hogsmeade and what's been going o-"

"I don't trust her."

"What?"

Alfie took a deep breath and turned to face Teddy. "I don't trust her."

"Tabitha?"

"Then who?"

"I don't know!" Teddy sighed. "Alfie, why don't you trust her?"

"I don't know," Alfie said, shifting uncomfortably. "I just… there's something about her that feels fishy."

Teddy furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms, looking rather pensive. "What do you mean? Alfie, you can't possibly think she's involved in this."

Alfie was silent for a few moments. He didn't really think that Tabitha was involved in what was going on. She was many things - a bully and a bigot, but a death eater? A kidnapper? She might be heartless, but Alfie didn't think she was that much of a monster.

"No," he said at last. "I don't."

"Then why don't you trust her?" Teddy's response was quick, and Alfie found himself beginning to feel slightly attacked. There was a time when Teddy would have understood, when he wouldn't have had to explain himself to him. They were so similar - he couldn't believe that Teddy seemed to blindly trust the Auror when it was so obvious that she didn't have all of their best interests in heart.

But then again, Teddy didn't have all the facts.

Glancing up at his best friend, Alfie knew that all he had to do to make Teddy understand was to tell him exactly what Tabitha James had told Riley. To tell him how Riley was being attacked by the very person who was supposed to protect her, to stand for the unity of the wizarding community as a whole, purebloods included. He knew that Teddy would understand, for Teddy had been the victim of prejudice essentially since he was born. All he had to do was tell him, but he couldn't.

Riley had confided in him that day. He didn't even know whether she'd told Victoire about all the horrible things Tabitha had said to him, but she'd told him, and she'd told him knowing that he wouldn't tell anyone else. If he was in Riley's position and she in his, he wouldn't want her to tell anyone, not even her best friend.

To tell Teddy would be to breach Riley's confidence. And although he wasn't particularly close to her, though he owed her nothing, he just couldn't do that.

"I just don't," he said at last. "But there's nothing I can do about it. I'm sorry, I don't know why I brought it up."

"Alfie," Teddy began, but Alfie cut him off.

"No, no, I shouldn't have brought it up." He sighed and began to walk towards the Hufflepuff table. "Let's just have breakfast and forget all about it."

.oOo.

 _IV: Surfacing_

You can think of anything that happens like a pebble dropped in a pond. It sends ripples out across the surface, disturbing anything in its wake. It seems as if nothing will ever be the same again, that nothing will ever go back to the way it once was. But eventually everything returns to normal. The ripples dissipate and the water smoothens over so that when the next pebble appears, it's almost as if nothing had ever disturbed the pond before.

Eventually.

Teddy sat in the Hufflepuff common room, skimming over his assigned reading. Alfie sat next to him completing an essay, and Matilda Goshawk lay on her back reading her Astronomy textbook. Giovanna Downing was slumped on the floor, the Daily Prophet spread out in front of her. It was so _normal_ , Teddy almost wanted to scream. True, it had been several days since the dark mark had gone up over Hogsmeade, but that was no reason to forget that it had happened. And yet that was exactly what everyone seemed to be doing - their workload had returned to normal, they were still going to classes and everything just seemed to be returning to how it was before the mark had appeared.

Teddy hated it. They couldn't just _forget_ that something had happened, they couldn't just ignore it. They had to stand up and _do_ something about it.

If only Teddy knew what to do.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when Giovanna very suddenly crumpled up her newspaper and threw it across the room. "I'm so _sick_ of this!" she screamed.

Teddy, Alfie and Matilda stared at her, confused and shock. Sudden outbursts of anger were not Giovanna's style at all. She might have been coming out of her shell a lot more since she escaped from under Daisy's thumb, but this sort of behaviour was definitely uncharacteristic.

"Are you okay, Gi?" Matilda asked tentatively.

"Of course I'm not okay!" Giovanna replied grumpily. "Everything nowadays is so… so doom and gloom! And I'm not saying that it shouldn't be, what with what's going on, but it's just too much. Is it too much to ask for some fun?"

Teddy thought it rather was, what with everything that was going on, but he decided not to comment.

"What do you want to do then?" Matilda asked, closing her book and resting her chin on her palms.

"I don't know," Giovanna replied, sighing. "There's not really that much to do here. I mean, Hogsmeade weekend was supposed to be fun and interrupt all this monotony, but of course it had to go and get cancelled —"

"Yeah, but you can't really —"

"Of course I don't blame Professor McGonagall, she had to cancel it. I just wish… I don't know. That we had something to do. I'm not saying that what's going on in the wider world," she gestured out of the window, "isn't important, because it is. But I think they should've organised something to distract us."

Alfie shrugged. "I get that."

Teddy wasn't sure he did. The teachers all seemed to be pretending like everything was fine, when it clearly wasn't, and it just seemed to draw attention to the fact that there was something wrong. He wished that they would just confront it head on; organising something to distract the student body felt counterproductive, as if it was drawing attention away from the situation at hand.

Then again, it wasn't as if focusing on the dark mark was doing him any good. He felt so useless sitting around on his hands; he felt like he couldn't do anything. It was his world, and yet he felt so out of control. And though he didn't consider himself a control freak, he didn't like feeling so powerless.

Suddenly a distraction didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

"Do you have anything fun in mind?" he asked Giovanna.

The brunette shook her head. "See, I'm not really that creative. I literally can't think of anything other than read a book or go for a walk but like, how boring can you get?"

"Not much more boring than that," Alfie agreed. "Although I'm pretty sure Ella would love to read a book."

"It was always Daisy and Morna who would come up with the crazy ideas," Matilda said wistfully, glancing down at her abandoned textbook. "Daisy especially. She might be mean sometimes —"

"More like all the time," Teddy muttered under his breath.

"— but she's always fun, you know? She's always got so many ideas."

"Has anyone actually seen Daisy outside of classes recently?" Alfie asked, his eyebrows knitting together. "I don't really remember the last time I saw her in the common room. She used to be in here all the time complaining about Bella Watson, and granted, it was a pain, but I don't know…"

"There's something odd about not having her around," Teddy finished for him. He had to admit that as annoying as Daisy Shipkins could be, it was strange not to hear her voice all the time. She had been such a regular figure in his everyday life for five years that it was strange not to see her around, not to hear her continuously complain.

"I agree," Matilda said quietly.

"I haven't seen her outside class," Giovanna said. "No idea where she is or what she's doing and why she's hiding and — oh, hello, Morna!"

Morna Clemmons had shuffled up to them, her arms folded protectively. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her forehead wrinkled and her lips turned out in an ever-so-slight pout. "All I _said_ was that it sucks that we couldn't go to Hogsmeade this weekend, and she bites my head off." She put on a falsetto before continuing, " _Yes, Morna, it sucks for you because you can actually show your face in public without being shamed and embarrassed and oh my it must be so wonderful to be you_. Ugh!"

"Are we talking about Daisy?" Matilda asked.

"Yes, of course we are!" Morna snapped. "Don't be thick, Mat, who else would we be talking about?"

"Hey now," Giovanna said warningly.

Morna sighed. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's just…ugh, she's been such a _bitch_ lately. She keeps going on and on about how she can't show her face in public. She's never around, and when I want to talk to her she just brushes me off, and she's always so rude. Like I try! I really try! I just …" her face crumpled and she let out a tiny sob, "don't know what to do!"

"Oh no, Morna!" Giovanna lept up and wrapped her arms around the blonde. "No, honey, it's not your fault that Daisy's being a bitch."

"But it is!" Morna wailed.

"It's not!" Matilda chipped in.

"It is!"

"It's not!"

"It is!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Teddy muttered under his breath.

"Girls," Alfie replied.

Morna sniffled and wiped her eyes. "It's just, I feel so bad. I think what her sister did to Bella Watson was completely and totally wrong, but I can't help but feel bad for her. Like, it was her sister. And yeah she didn't do anything to stop Laura, but … I don't know, I guess it's natural to feel like you've got to follow in your sister's footsteps? Does that make sense?"

"I mean, none of us have sisters, but it does," Alfie said.

"I have a sister," Giovanna said. "She's much older than me, and we're not that close, but I get it. I'm not saying that I've forgiven Daisy, but I do get it."

"Do you think she'll ever get over it?" Alfie asked.

Teddy thought about this. He could imagine that Daisy was embarrassed and felt upset — goodness knows that he definitely would, especially since Hufflepuff opinion had drastically shifted against her sister. But Laura was graduating this year — Daisy wouldn't be under her influence forever. And maybe, just maybe, this whole situation would help Daisy grow up.

"What, are you lot having a meeting without me?"

Teddy spun around. Daisy Shipkins stood at the entrance to her dormitory, her hands folded across her chest.

"Daisy!" Morna exclaimed.

"What, you're friends with _them_ now?" Daisy gestured towards Giovanna and Matilda who glanced at one another uncertainly. "Is everyone in this house against me then?"

"No—"

"It's that _bitch_ Bella Watson's fault!" Daisy screamed. "She ruined everything!"

"Daisy —"

"Shut up, Morna. I don't want to hear it."

Daisy turned around and slammed the door behind her, leaving the fifth-years in the common room very uncomfortable and slightly uncertain what to make of her very sudden outburst.

"Well," Teddy said at last, "she's certainly not over it yet."

The others made murmuring sounds of agreement. Some people, it seemed, just didn't learn from their mistakes.

 _.oOo._

 _V: Talking in T's_

The vast majority of Hogwarts students were relieved to learn that Tabitha James would _not_ be conducting individual interviews regarding the Dark Mark displayed in Hogsmeade. It wasn't that no one liked Tabitha, but there was a general agreement that there was something about her that was a little scary.

"She makes me feel like I'm guilty," Giovanna had said, shuddering. "I know I'm innocent — I mean, I literally know nothing about what happened in Hogsmeade — but she makes me _feel_ like I do. It's odd."

Instead, Tabitha was talking to students in groups. She'd mixed them up so that there was one member of each house in each meeting. Teddy was happy to find that Ella was to be in his. He thought that there might be a way to trick Ella into revealing her theory to Tabitha — despite what she and Alfie believed, he still thought that talking to Tabitha was the right course of action. After all, she was an _Auror_. What better person to help them? He thought that they were being terribly irresponsible by simply sitting on information that could be vital to her investigation.

However, there was no way of bringing it up during the meeting. Tabitha was to the point, her questions close-ended. There wasn't much room for Teddy to introduce a new topic, and even at the end, when she asked if there was anything else anyone would like to bring up, he wasn't sure how to raise the topic subtly without antagonising Ella. He left the meeting, therefore, feeling rather disappointed.

"You're awfully quiet," Ella commented as they walked down the corridor towards the Great Hall. "Disappointed by the meeting?"

"What?" Teddy said a little too quickly. "Why would I be?"

Ella narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, you know. It yielded no results."

"Didn't expect it to," Teddy mumbled. "Don't you think if anyone knew anything, they'd have come forward by now? No one's just going to wait for Tabitha to ask them directly."

Ella shrugged. "Some people might, you know. A scared first year."

"A scared first year is hardly going to speak up when surrounded by a group of people."

"That's a good point." She paused. "You'd think Tabitha would've thought of that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you would."

"Almost odd that she didn't."

"Are you hinting at something?"

"Me?" Ella looked thoughtful. "No."

"Oi!" A voice came from down the corridor. Teddy spun around to see Victoire running towards him, waving madly. He couldn't help but smile. Victoire was always so enthusiastic; she was acting as if she hadn't seen him in years. "Wait up!"

" _You_ wait up," drawled another voice. Riley appeared from around the corner. She had her arms folded across her chest and looked rather cross. "You just took off down the corridor like a seeker who's just seen the snitch."

"But Teddy and Ella are here!"

"Still!"

Victoire rolled her eyes dramatically and turned to Teddy and Ella. "Where are you two coming from then?"

Teddy jerked his thumb in the general direction of Tabitha's office. "Auror meeting."

"Ugh." Victoire wrinkled her nose. "During lunch? That's horrible. I don't mind the meetings so much, as long as I'm missing class."

"That's not a good attitude to have," Ella said reprimandingly. "Classes are wonderful."

"To you, maybe. You're good at them. Teachers love you."

"Teachers love you too," Riley pointed out.

Victoire went slightly pink and ducked her head. "Teachers love my _family,_ " she corrected. "Flitwick keeps going on and on about how I must take after my father in Charms."

"Do you?" Ella inquired.

"I hate Charms. He thinks I'm a late starter — apparently dear old Dad was awful at Charms until he kicked himself into gear for his O.W.L.'s. Flitwick's waiting for the day I wake up and do the same."

"He'll be waiting a long time then," Teddy teased.

Victoire hit him on the arm, but laughed.

Riley finally caught up to them (Teddy suppressed his irritation with her — the least she could have done was run a bit so that they weren't all waiting for so long — because it was such a trivial matter) and they continued on towards the Great Hall, chatting amongst themselves. The girls were going on about some sort of new potion that supposedly gave you clear skin overnight, and Teddy found himself tuning out. As they got closer to the Hall, the corridors filled with students. Teddy couldn't help but wonder whether any of them knew anything about the dark mark at Hogsmeade and if so, how they were managing to stay quiet for so long. If he had known anything, he'd have been driven half mad by now trying to keep it a secret.

"Teddy?"

"Sorry?"

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Were you listening to me?"

"Sorry, Vic."

"I asked what Tabitha asked you at your meeting."

"Oh! Nothing really. The usual. What were you doing the night of the mark, did you see anything and so on."

"Good to know I didn't miss anything," Riley muttered.

"You skipped your meeting?" Ella, ever observant, inquired. "Why?"

Riley looked uncomfortable for a moment. Victoire quickly chipped in. "She's Riley. She skips _everything._ Potions classes with Smith, detention with Hagrid, even her own birthday party — remember that, Riles, you forgot all about that party I threw you when you were thirteen! You'd gone down to Hogsmeade with Billy Crenshaw instead because he bet you you couldn't drink more butterbeers than he could without being sick. So really, missing a meeting with an Auror is perfectly in character!"

"Oh yes," came an unmistakable drawl. Teddy let out a long, rather audible groan, and Ella tensed up. "Of course a Carrow would miss her meeting with Tabitha James?"

"Leave her alone, Terence," barked Victoire.

Terence Gates smiled slyly. He jumped off the wall where he was sitting with a couple of other Gryffindor fifth years and approached the five friends. "Why, Weasley?"

"Because she's my friend!"

"A Weasley, friends with a Carrow? Whatever would you parents say?"

"They don't care, for your information," Victoire replied staunchly, jutting her chin out. "You can … bugger off."

"Now why would I do that? Your friend here missed a meeting with Tabitha James, and as a responsible member of the student body, I believe it's my civic duty to take her to James."

"You'll do no such thing."

"Missing a meeting with an Auror," Terence continued as if he hadn't heard Victoire, "now if that doesn't look guilty, what does?"

"Hey!" Teddy, despite his better knowledge, found himself stepping in. "Leave her alone, Gates. She's not involved."

He saw Ella bite down on her lip and he knew that she wanted him to stop, to take the high road and walk away. But, as per usual when it came to Terence Gates, he couldn't. There was something so… so _… infuriating_ about him, that Teddy just couldn't think with a clear mind.

"What did you say to me?" Terence taunted.

"You heard me. Leave her alone."

"What's going on?" Alfie had approached the group tentatively, and stood beside Ella. "What did Terence do this time?"

 _Did it matter?_ Teddy thought. Terence was always saying something, always doing something, he never seemed to learn a thing.

"Teddy, please," Ella whispered.

"Listen to the bookworm, Lupin," Terence said nastily. "You don't want to mess with me."

"On the contrary, Gates," Teddy hissed, "you want to mess with my friends? You've got to go through me."

"Is that all?" Terence laughed. "And here I thought I'd be fighting dementors to get to Carrow, not some itty bitty puppy that fancies himself a big bad wolf."

"Hey!" Victoire roared, running up to Terence and pulling her wand out of her robes. She clutched it firmly in her palm, and shoved it up to his face, the tip barely inches away from his skin. Her eyes were narrow and fierce. "No one insults my friends."

"Vic, he's not worth it!" Teddy exclaimed.

"Come on, Weasley," Terence said, staring Victoire down. "Why don't we see your famed warrior blood, then? Or are you no good compared to the rest of your family? You don't even have the characteristic red hair - may I suggest that your blood's been watered down? Or that," he paused for dramatic effect, "you aren't even a Weasley at all?"

"What do you mean?" Victoire attempted to sound confident, but Teddy could see her hand shaking.

"Well, veelas aren't exactly _known_ for their loyalty."

It was from that moment onwards that things began to happen rather quickly.

Riley screamed, "You utter prick," and swung her fist towards Terence's face.

Terence caught hold of Riley before she could hit him and pushed her with such force that she fell on her back.

Victoire whipped her wand out and screamed, " _Flipendo_ ," causing Terence to fall backwards.

"Oh, you're going to be sorry you did that, Weasley!" Terence yelled. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and pointed it towards Teddy, shouting something incomprehensible. Teddy felt a sharp pain sear across his cheek. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, but judging by Ella's gasp of horror, it wasn't good.

"You … you … twit!" Alfie yelled, pulling his wand out of his cloak and pointing it squarely between Terence's eyebrows.

Terence laughed. "Stop pretending like you know what to do with that thing, Hayes. You should put it down before someone gets hurt."

Alfie made a quick movement that looked somewhat like the bat-bogey hex, but Terence was too quick for him. Before Alfie could complete his spell, he was left hanging upside-down in the air. "Teddy!" he yelled, anxiously. "What's going on?"

"I'll get you down," Teddy promised.

"Not likely," Terence said. " _Levicorpus_."

Teddy felt himself swing upwards with a lurch. It took him a few moments to refocus; when he did, he saw Terence in front of him, clambering to his feet. There were a few cuts on his arm from the glass, but he looked completely calm - calculating, even. Teddy glanced around to see if he could spot Ella, but she seemed to have magically disappeared. He reached instinctively for his wand, but his pockets were empty; his wand had fallen out when he'd been levitated.

"All bark and no bite, eh, Lupin?"

"You," Teddy said, his blood pumping adrenaline through his veins. "Is this the only way you know how?"

"Come again?"

"What in your life is so miserable that you have to antagonise people like this? What have I ever done to you? What is it about me, Gates? Why are you so darn insecure?"

"I am not."

"Yes you are! Ever since we first met before we were sorted, you've had it out for me. I don't know what it is - maybe it's my last name, maybe it's that my parents fought in the war - but you've never, ever been able to get over whatever basic hatred you have for me, no matter how much I try!"

Terence was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, but no less dangerous; it sent a chill down Teddy's back. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"I suppose I don't! It's always the same spiel, Gates. Half-breed, werewolf baby… what do you have against werewolves anyway? What have they _ever_ done to _you_?"

"Shut up."

"I bet you've never even seen one"

"I said, shut up!"

Filled with a sudden burst of anger, Terence pointed his wand at Teddy and yelled " _Oppugno_

For a split moment, it felt like nothing happened. Then, Teddy became faintly aware of the shards of glass from the window rising up off the floor, and pummeling towards him. Time seemed to slow down as they came closer and closer, and he braced himself for their piercing impact.

But none ever came.

"What in _Merlin's name_ is going on here?"

The pieces of glass fell to the floor.

Teddy felt himself lurch back to an upright position, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing in front of him, her hands folded in front of her.

And next to her was a very terrified Ella.

.oOo.

 _VI: Conversations on the way to McGonagall's office_

"You went for McGonagall?"

"How could I not, Teddy?"

"We're all going to get in trouble now."

"You're not seeing the bigger picture here!"

"What?"

"If I hadn't shown up when I did, with McGonagall, you'd be seriously injured now. You'd be in the hospital wing."

"And _Terence_ would be in trouble, but I wouldn't be!"

"For goodness sakes, Teddy, he'll still be in trouble, but at least you're not hurt! I get that you're angry with Terence - stop taking it out on me!"

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are, you're being an utter prick!"

"I am _not_."

"Teddy, stop it! I understand that Terence makes you mad, and he was way out of line what with all those nasty things he said about you, Riley and Victoire. And I get that you're mad at me now because you think I somehow _betrayed_ you by going to get McGonagall but you have to understand where I'm coming from!"

"Where are you coming from then?"

"You…"

"I what? What, Ella?"

"You looked like you could kill him. And he … was so out of control. I didn't know what was going to happen. All I knew was that I couldn't just stand around while you and the others got hurt. So I went for a teacher and the first person I ran into was Professor McGonagall and that was that. I'm not going to apologise because as far as I'm concerned, I did the right thing."

Silence.

"Teddy?"

Silence.

"You do get where I'm coming from, don't you?"

Silence.

"Teddy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah what?"

"Yeah. I get it."

"So you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive."

 _.oOo._

 _VII: Eight_

Teddy had been in Headmistress McGonagall's office exactly seven times before.

Of those seven, five had been because of Terence.

Why break the pattern, then?

This time was, after all, no different. She demanded an explanation, everyone stayed quiet. She demanded an explanation again, and he spoke up, carefully explaining what had happened without putting blame on anyone. Terence butted in loudly, trying to argue his own point. Riley and Victoire bit back and Alfie looked nervously at Ella. McGonagall silenced them, gave them a stern lecture and doled out punishment — thirty points from each of their houses, and detention every night from now until Christmas holidays. Terence and Victoire, who had used magic in the corridors and therefore broken an extra rule, received extra detention to be served in the week immediately after they returned from Christmas. Teddy thought this rather unfair, considering that Victoire's use of magic had been in self-defence, while Terence's had been a direct attack that could have ended up being quite severe.

"I hope this will make you think twice before doing anything like this again," McGonagall said sternly, looking at the ragtag group over her glasses. "You should _all_ know better by now — especially Mr. Lupin and Mr. Gates."

Teddy mumbled an apology under his breath.

The funny thing was, he did know better. He knew that by getting riled up, he was doing exactly what Terence wanted him to do. He knew that if he just walked away, he could avoid confrontation, and avoid anyone getting hurt. But somehow, he just _couldn't_. He felt like Terence had to learn a lesson, and that it was his duty to somehow teach it to him. He just didn't know how to give up and let it be.

McGonagall paused for a second before sighing and leaning back in her chair, her wrinkled hands folded on the desk in front of her. "I understand that current events have been … difficult for all of you to deal with." Her eyes passed over Riley, who shuffled back slightly. "And I understand that they have caused fear — fear that perhaps motivated your fight this afternoon. But I must ask you all, in the interest of the wider wizarding community, to put your differences behind you."

This, it seemed to Teddy, was directed at Terence.

"I am not asking you all to become best friends, although I know some of you are. I am asking you to stick together, as a school community, as young wizards and witches. These are trying times, and something tells me we have not seen the end of them quite yet."

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked quietly.

Professor McGonagall shook her head sadly. "I cannot predict the future, Mr. Hayes." Her gaze drifted across them all. "And I cannot stress the importance of staying united through this. Many years ago, a dark wizard almost succeeded at destroying the world as we know it because he wove discord among us. We cannot let that happen again. Do you understand?"

Teddy nodded, feeling as if the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders. He, too, believed in the importance of unity, especially what with recent events, but to have the responsibility of maintaining that comradeship bestowed upon him? All of a sudden, he became acutely aware of his position within the wizarding world, and not for the first time, he felt his stomach sink.

What hope did he, a mere fifteen-year-old Hogwarts student, have to change the world?

It was a thought that remained with him long after he left Professor McGonagall's office. It followed him all the way back to his dormitory, as he carefully removed a piece of parchment from his desk drawer, got out his quill and began to write a letter addressed to Tabitha James.

 _.oOo._

 _IX: Suspect_

"Come in."

Robards didn't look up as Tabitha James entered his office. He was too busy sorting through a stack of papers on his desk, muttering things to himself. Tabitha stood in front of him for what seemed like hours before clearing her throat emphatically.

Robards stopped. He slowly brought his gaze to meet hers. "Something you want?"

"Yes, actually."

He gestured at the chair in front of his table. "Don't let me stop you then."

She didn't sit down. Instead, she reached into the front pocket of her robes and extracted an envelope. "A week ago, while I was at Hogwarts, I received this."

She held it out to Robards, who took it, examining it suspiciously before flipping the seal open and removing the parchment that lay inside. As he unfolded it, he asked, "And you're showing this to me only now because?"

"Because I wanted to investigate a bit. See if what the person was saying added up. And I when I found that it did, I wanted to talk to you face to face."

"The person?"

"It's anonymous, sir."

There was a moment of silence as Robards skimmed the letter. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration and though Tabitha tried to kid herself that she didn't care what he thought, she found herself waiting with baited breath, hoping he didn't simply dismiss it as a silly theory.

"Okay," he said at last, putting the letter down on his table, "tell me why I should believe what this … good citizen is suggesting."

"Well, for one thing, they're right. Every single attack so far has been somehow connected to Hogwarts. Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles were both Hogwarts students, though the former had yet to start. The London attack was only on muggleborn Hogwarts students."

"The Hogsmeade attack?"

She had known that he would ask about this - Robards had an uncanny knack for quickly identifying and pointing out the flaws in any theory. "Is a bit more of a stretch, granted, but Hogsmeade is only five minutes away from the school and is a much softer target."

"Okay," Robards said, shrugging. "But I still don't quite see the whole point of this. Alright, it seems as if everything's connected to Hogwarts, but I feel like we're just stating the obvious here, James. Tell me something that'll help us nail the bastard behind this."

Tabitha felt her lips curling upwards into a smile. She _did_ love it when she could prove that she'd anticipated these sorts of questions, that she thought things through. "Let's start at the beginning. Melissa Cooper's kidnappers would have required the addresses of muggleborns, as would the wizards who attacked London. As only muggleborn Hogwarts students' households, rather than muggleborns in general were attacked, it follows that the perpetrators of this little attack obtained their information from Hogwarts."

"Fine," Robards replied, folding his arms, "but you're forgetting that Hogwarts has no registry of blood-status. Neither do we, as a matter of fact. It's easy enough to figure out which individuals are purebloods, but it's trickier to determine who's a half-blood and who's muggleborn."

Tabitha had anticipated this too. "Unless you cross-reference the list of Hogwarts students and their addresses with our records."

"Are you thick, James? I just said, we don't have a registry of blood-status."

"Oh, just listen!" Tabitha snapped. "I checked with a friend down in the Department of Registration. We don't add muggleborns to the registry of magical individuals until _after_ they start at Hogwarts. By determining who on the list of incoming Hogwarts students wasn't on the registry, the kidnappers could have identified all first year muggleborns, leading them straight to Melissa Cooper."

Robards was silent for a moment before nodding. "Alright, James, that makes sense. What about London?"

"Same thing, really. We have a registry of the number of wizards in each household - the data's collected every year, when we do our census. For muggleborn students, there would only be one wizard in the house."

"What if they had siblings?"

"That's just it," Tabitha said triumphantly. "I looked into the households that were attacked again, and look at this." She pulled out a small list from her pocket and began reading off it, "Kane Williams, fourth-year Gryffindor, is a muggleborn with an older brother who's also magical. His brother has now graduated Hogwarts and is living at home. They were not attacked. Camilla Spoon, second-year Slytherin, is a half-blood with a muggle father and a magical mother, but lives only with her father because her mother took off. She was attacked. Ella Anderson, fifth-year Ravenclaw, is the daughter of a Squib and therefore not a muggleborn, but the only magical individual in her household. They were attacked."

"So the failures of the attackers -"

"Have led us straight to their methods. I double-checked the Ministry reports. We were so focused on the possibility of people breaking into the Ministry itself that we failed to look at whether any of the individual departments had experienced security breaches."

"What are you saying?"

"The Ministry wasn't broken into - not properly, because whoever got into the atrium and carved that message about Melissa Cooper didn't get any farther than that - but according to a report from July, the Department of Registration was breached. They thought it was just a mistake, some rookie intern who was lost, but what if it wasn't?" Tabitha paused. "Don't you see what this means, Robards? We know how they did what they did - this puts us one step closer to finding out who they are."

Robards was silent for a moment. Tabitha watched him closely, her dark eyes narrowly following him as he took a deep breath and sat down, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him. "Any theories as to who they are?"

Tabitha smiled. This was the moment she had been waiting for; she had known all along that coming to Robards' office with a solid theory, but no suspects, would simply not suffice. If he was to take her seriously, if he was to take any of her theory seriously, she had to give him a name.

"There's only one person who has had access to the Ministry and Hogwarts the entire time this has been going on. Auror Munroe."

* * *

 **A/N:** aaaand we're back! Apologies for the majorly long hiatus, guys - I'm super busy during term time and never have any time to write! I do aim to get a few more updates out during the holidays though, so keep checking back on Wednesdays! I'm really looking forward to the next chapter!


	12. Chapter 12: Displacement

**Chapter Twelve: Displacement**

 _I: The long way home_

Leaving Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays was always chaotic.

For one, Teddy and Alfie always left their packing to the very last minute. When Ella came down to their dormitory two hours before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave, she found them hurriedly stuffing clothes and books into their bags. She shook her head in disapproval.

" _Honestly_ , you two. How you manage to get anything done at all, I've got no clue."

Nevertheless, she got down on her knees and began to help them pack. Although Teddy appreciated the sentiment, he found himself getting slightly irritated with the way she kept removing items of clothing that he'd already packed from his trunk and refolding them. He refrained, however, from saying anything; he knew she meant well, and she managed to help him fit all of his possessions into his trunk with a good thirty minutes to spare.

They made it down to the Hogwarts Express in record time and boarded the train. Riley and Victoire were already there, and the blonde Gryffindor eagerly waved them into their carriage. Before Teddy knew it, they were pulling out of the station and away from the school. He watched Hogsmeade disappear from his window until all he could see was a blur of greenery. There was something sad, he thought, about leaving Hogwarts behind at the end of each term. Although he didn't always enjoy the work, he loved being at school because he knew that if he wanted company, all he had to do was go to the Common Room, or the Great Hall. Comparatively, being at home was lonely. Sure, Victoire visited frequently, as did many other members of his extended family network, and he communicated regularly with Ella and Alfie via letter, but it just wasn't the same.

Still, he was excited to see his grandmother again. He missed her a lot during term-time and he knew that she missed him. He couldn't wait to tell her about everything that had been going on during term - although he wrote to her regularly, it wasn't the same as having a face-to-face conversation. For one, he hadn't mentioned anything about the Bella, Laura and Macmillan saga, because it just wasn't the kind of thing that translated well on parchment. He definitely planned on telling her all about it though; he was sure that she would find it interesting, if not mildly horrifying.

The first part of the trip passed quickly without much event. Riley, thankfully, had remembered to bring a pack of cards (Teddy had absentmindedly packed his) and they busied themselves by playing multiple rounds of Exploding Snap, the final of which Victoire happily won. The lady came by with the trolley and Ella bought them lunch with her leftover pocket money. Teddy marvelled at just how much she was able to get. She was always buying them treats from Honeydukes and buying herself enough books to fill a second Hogwarts library on her trips to Hogsmeade; it was a wonder that she had any money left over at all.

They had just finished lunch when there was a knock on the door to their carriage. Giovanna Downing and Matilda Goshawk waved, slid the door open and came in. Much to Teddy's surprise, they were followed by a petite blonde.

"Hi guys. Hi Morna," Teddy said.

Morna Clemmons looked up at him and smiled. "Hey Teddy."

Ella looked at Alfie and Teddy questioningly. Morna noticed this and sighed. "Daisy's being a bitch again."

"Oh, yeah?" Ella said, raising an eyebrow. "Why am I not surprised?"

Morna went bright red and muttered something under her breath.

"We told Morna she could hang out with us," Giovanna said protectively.

"Aren't you scared she'll just go tattling back to Daisy?" Riley said. "I mean, she's been best friends with her for five years now. For all you know, Daisy just sent her to spy on you two."

Morna's face turned an even deeper red. Teddy shot a glare at Riley - he felt bad for Morna, who was obviously trying to make an effort to break out from under Daisy's thumb. He wished Riley wasn't always so belittling towards everyone, especially those who'd never done anything to her.

"I'm sure she -" he began to say, but Riley interrupted again.

"What did Daisy even do to you?"

"That's none of your business, Carrow," Morna replied jutting her chin out. "But if you must know, she's been awfully mean lately, ever since she saw me talking to Gi and Matilda in the Hufflepuff Common Room. Saying nasty things about me and the clothes I'm wearing. Today was just the last straw, so I told her she could… well, I wasn't very nice either, but that's besides the point. She went off in a huff, so I went to find these two," she gestured at Giovanna and Matilda, "because they said I could always hang out with them if I wanted."

"You can always hang out with us too," Alfie said kindly, ignoring the glares that Ella and Riley shot him.

"Thanks, Alfie," Morna said with a smile.

"Anyway," Giovanna said, "we really just stopped by to wish you guys a merry Christmas."

"And give you these!" Matilda reached into her coat pocket (she, like many of the other students, had changed into muggle clothes) and withdrew several Christmas cards. She handed one each to Teddy, Alfie, Ella, Victoire and Riley. The fourth years looked rather surprised to be receiving cards from Matilda Goshawk, who neither of them knew very well, but Teddy couldn't help but smile. Matilda must have known that he, Alfie and Ella would be sitting with Victoire and Riley on the train, and she wouldn't have wanted them to feel left out. Matilda, he thought, was definitely one of the nicest people he knew.

"Thanks, Mat," he said, smiling widely. The others echoed his sentiments, and Matilda smiled and blushed.

"It was really no problem," she said, ducking her head.

Teddy was glad that Matilda had at last, found friends. Sure, she'd hung around with Giovanna, even Morna, for years, but Daisy had always been such a powerful influence over them that they'd never really connected. He was glad that now that Daisy was out of the picture, they were finally getting a chance to be real friends.

But he couldn't help but feel somewhat bad for Daisy. She idolised Laura, and yet after what had happened between her and Bella Watson, very few people would look at, or even speak to Laura because they believed her to be no more than a liar and a gossip. Daisy had isolated herself too - she was snappy with Morna, and spent more time with her sister than anyone else. Teddy wondered if she felt guilty, in a way, for not stopping her sister before she drove herself to her own destruction, or felt as if she had to stick by her. Either way, he couldn't help but think back to what Bella Watson had said that day, when she came out of McGonagall's office.

 _It's not too late for Daisy Shipkins_.

Teddy didn't like Daisy. He thought she was petty, inconsiderate, and self-obsessed.

At the same time, he knew that she had it in her to be a better person, if only she realised it herself.

But knowing Daisy Shipkins, she was going to need some prompting.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," he told his friends, getting up from his seat and dusting pasty crumbs off his robes. "I'll be right back."

 _.oOo._

 _II: St. Valentine_

It took him exactly seven minutes to find her, sitting alone in a carriage.

She was on the seat nearest to the window, her face pressed against the glass as she watched the countryside pass by in a blur. He tapped his fist softly against the door, and she turned with a start. Her face calmed somewhat when she saw who it was, but her eyes still remained hard.

"What do you want?" Daisy Shipkins demanded.

"Can I come in?" Teddy asked awkwardly. She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. He slid the door open and walked into the carriage, sitting down opposite her. She scanned him briefly, but didn't make eye contact.

"So," he began.

"So," she said.

He hesitated, not knowing exactly what to say. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but obviously waltzing into someone's carriage with the intent of changing her entire outlook on the world for the better was rather … optimistic. Still, it had never stopped him before.

"There must be a reason you're here, Teddy," she said, a strong tinge of bitterness in her voice. "People don't just come to see me because they _want_ to."

"Daisy -" he trailed off, at a loss. "You know I don't hate you."

This made her meet his gaze. "You don't?"

"No," he admitted. "You… sometimes you're not a very nice person, and I don't like some of the things you do -"

"Like helping spread rumours about Bella Watson."

"Exactly. But I don't hate you. I don't think you're a bad person."

"Well," she said, leaning back and folding her arms, "that makes one person, at least."

Teddy paused. She was hiding it well, he thought, but he could tell that she was hurt and lonely. He knew that no matter what he was going through, he would always have his friends, but Daisy … Daisy had pushed them all away, even the ones she thought would always be loyal to her. She often acted as if she didn't need anyone else, as if everyone was disposable to her, but now, when she was alone, she just looked vulnerable. And Teddy felt horrible for her.

"I don't think people hate you," he started.

She scoffed.

"No, I'm serious. I don't think they hate you."

"But they do—"

"No," he said it with more conviction this time. "There's a difference between being angry at a person because they've been rude one too many times, and actually actively hating a person. And your friends, Daisy, they don't hate you. Your sister, maybe, but -"

"That's kind of the same thing, isn't it?"

This surprised him. "I'm sorry?"

"You don't get it. You don't have siblings. If they hate my sister, they hate me. Simple as that."

"You and your sister aren't the same person!" Teddy exclaimed. Daisy looked rather taken aback, so he lowered his voice, "You're not Laura, and Laura isn't you, and everyone gets that. Just because she made a mistake doesn't mean that you should take the fall for it."

"Everyone loves Bella Watson," Daisy said grumpily. "Why would they love me if they love her?"

Teddy couldn't help but roll his eyes – how did _everything_ with the Shipkins' sisters always come back to Bella Watson. "You and Bella are not mutually exclusive. They can like both of you, you know. I don't think Bella's got anything against you."

Daisy said nothing to this. He sighed.

"Look, Daisy, I don't want to sit here and lecture you."

"I don't want a lecture," she said, a little cattily.

"Fine. I won't give you one. I just came here to tell you… it's not too late. People _don't_ hate you."

"Do they realise that?"

"Maybe they do, maybe they don't. But if you try, you can repair your relationships. Make people like you again."

Daisy was silent. Teddy watched her closely, hoping that he'd gotten through to her, hoping that he'd somehow managed to make her realise that nothing was going to change unless she did first.

"I should go," he said at last, getting up. "Just think about it, Daisy."

He was almost at the door when she spoke. "If Morna Clemmons sent you here, tell her I still hate her."

He suppressed a groan as he opened the door and walked out without a word. Had she not heard anything he'd said? Had she just sat and pretended to listen, while thinking about new and creative ways to get back at all the people she thought had wronged her? Or was the last comment about Morna just some sort of weird defense mechanism?

He didn't know whether he'd had an impact, but he hoped he had. Bella was right - it wasn't too late for Daisy.

Not yet at least.

 _.oOo._

 _III: Reparations (part I)_

Bella Watson was ready for the term to be over.

She had enjoyed parts of it - playing Quidditch, completing assignments for class, keeping herself busy with Head Girl duties, spending time with her friends. But there were other parts that she would be happy to forget all about. Namely, the rumour that she and Professor Macmillan were seeing each other.

Sure, nothing terrible had actually come out of it. She was still Head Girl, Professor Macmillan was still the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and the Head of Hufflepuff, and Laura Shipkins had been punished duly. But that didn't mean that things hadn't changed at all. For one, she was seeing significantly less of Macmillan. Whenever she had to see a teacher with regards to her Head Girl duties, she was always directed to Flitwick, or one of the other Heads of Houses. Although they told her it was merely because Professor Macmillan was busy, Bella couldn't help but think he was consciously avoiding her.

He was even acting strangely in Defense classes. Although he still picked her to answer questions or to demonstrate a spell, he rarely made eye contact with her. She'd tried to hang around after class like she used to to ask questions based on the extra reading she'd done, but he always said that he had somewhere else to be - a meeting with the headmistress, or lunch with Professor Longbottom. After a while, she stopped trying.

She made out like it didn't bother her, but it did. She looked up to and respected Professor Macmillan. He'd always believed in her and pushed her to be the very best she could be. She considered him kind of like a friend - at least, as much of a friend as a teacher could be. To have that all destroyed because of an idiotic, immature girl… it sent a twinge of anger through her.

"Hey," Evelien Spironova, who was sitting next to her in the train, elbowed her lightly, "you okay?"

Bella realised that she had tensed up considerably. Sighing, she relaxed her shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah, Evie, I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Macey Longstone said from where she was standing by the window. "You haven't been for weeks. I've noticed it in your Quidditch. You're a lot more tense. More worried. Your flying is more jerky."

Evelien rolled her eyes and Bella suppressed a laugh. Of _course_ Macey had been able to tell how she was feeling based on how she played Quidditch. The only way that girl knew empathy was if it was conveyed through a broomstick.

"Come on then." Macey sat down and leaned forward, folding her hands over her knees. "Spill, Watson."

"It's nothing," Bella said, shrugging. "It's just … what happened with Laura's being playing on my mind a lot recently."

At this, Macey scoffed and leaned back. "She's a bitch, Bella, and she got what she deserved."

"I know," Bella said, "it's just… things haven't been the same between me and Professor Macmillan ever since."

"I don't think you can blame him for that. He's probably staying away to diffuse the heat."

"That's true," Evelien pointed out. "I mean, the _rumours_ might not be true, but people have still heard them, right? They're still going to think that -"

"I know," Bella said, sighing. "I know. It's just -" she trailed off, unsure of how to express herself.

"You want things to be back to normal."

"Yeah."

There was silence for a few moments as each girl collected her thoughts. It was Macey who spoke at last. "Listen, Bella, I know this must be rough for you, but you've got to give it time. Things will be back to normal."

"I wish I could be as confident as you, Macey," the blonde said, shaking her head sadly.

Evelien rubbed her shoulder sympathetically and Macey watched her closely. Suddenly, Bella felt claustrophobic. This carriage was too closed in, she thought, and though she loved Evelien and Macey, they were scrutinising her too intently. She didn't regret telling them what she was thinking, for she needed to get it off her chest, but now… now she just wished that they'd forget about it and start talking about something, anything else.

Yet they stayed silent.

"I'm going to go," she said abruptly, getting up from her seat. When Macey and Evelien looked at her questioningly, she expanded. "I'm starving. I'm going to go get something from the trolley. The lady's always at the front of the train after she's been around."

She closed the glass door behind her and heaved a small sigh of relief. The corridors were practically empty - there were only a few first and second years milling about, and they were too young to fully understand what the rumours about her and Macmillan had meant. A first-year Slytherin saw her and elbowed her friend, a brunette Gryffindor. Both girls gulped and stood very straight as Bella passed. It was enough to bring a smile to the Hufflepuff's face.

"Had a good term, then?" she asked the two girls kindly.

The Slytherin nodded eagerly. "Yes, Miss Watson."

Bella laughed. "You don't need to call me that. My name's Bella."

"We know -ow!" The Gryffindor had elbowed the Slytherin, who looked at her rather angrily. "Merry Christmas, Bella."

"Merry Christmas, guys."

She passed by them, moving into the next carriage. She wasn't quite sure where she was going. She hadn't really been intending to get food from the trolley - that had just been an excuse - but with nowhere else to go, really, she found herself instinctively heading towards the front of the train. Plus, she hadn't eaten that much for lunch, so food would do her good. Her stomach grumbled as she thought about pumpkin pasties, and chocolate frogs, and all of the delicious treats that Macey generally didn't let her eat because she said they were bad for her Quidditch form.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the chocolate frog wrapper that had been discarded in front of her. The front of her foot hit the cardboard and she lost her balance, wildly flailing as she tried to find something to grab onto to stop her from falling forwards. Her hand landed on something fleshy in front of her, and she gripped it tightly, using it to pull herself upwards.

It was only when she had assumed her full height that she saw just who she'd grabbed onto.

Professor Macmillan stood in front of her, looking rather red. He'd just come out of the adjacent carriage when Bella had fallen.

Talk about timing.

"Professor!" Bella exclaimed, dropping his arm abruptly. "I… I…"

"Are you alright, Miss Watson?" Macmillan asked, his colour returning to normal.

"Yes." Bella looked down, brushing imaginary dust off her robes. "Yes, thanks, Professor. I'm fine. You caught me just in time."

He smiled, but it was only a half-smile, and was a little bit awkward. There was silence between them as Bella struggled to find something to say, but failed. Macmillan seemed to be suffering from a similar dilemma. He didn't seem to want to meet her eye, and perhaps it was that that steeled her resolve. She didn't want this to go on any longer, and the only way things would go back to normal between the two of them was if they talked about it. And if he wasn't going to start a conversation then it was up to her.

"Professor," she began in what she hoped was a beseeching tone, but he cut her off.

"Have a good holiday, Miss Watson."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away, leaving Bella alone in the corridor.

Well, she supposed. That was that.

.oOo.

 _IV: Station(ary)_

As the Hogwarts Express pulled into London Kings Cross, the energy on the train went up. Students who'd previously been sitting quietly in carriages, wondering when they would finally arrive leaped up, peering out of windows to try and spot their families. There was a buzz in the air as friends made last minute Christmas plans, and as everyone lined up behind the exits, desperate to be among the first out.

While Teddy and Alfie both tried to spot each other's' guardians from the windows, Ella sat back on her chair looking rather glum. Her parents never came to pick her up from the platform. Instead, they sent their chauffeur, who thought Ella went to a very posh muggle boarding school, to pick her up from outside the station. She understood, really. The magical world was painful for her mother to engage with directly, for it contained many bad memories, and there was always the possibility that someone on the platform would recognise her. Her father would feel completely out of place, especially if he was to wait on his own. It was just easier to send the driver.

Yet she couldn't help but feel a bit sad as everyone disembarked and ran to meet their families. She found herself alone when, after saying goodbye, Alfie went to meet his parents, and Teddy and Victoire went to meet his grandmother and her parents. Standing on the platform with her trunk, she felt awfully disorientated watching all of the happy reunions, and she found herself wishing that her parents were there too. She couldn't help but glance around the platform, scanning faces, hoping to see them standing somewhere, waving to her with wide smiles and open arms.

She'd thought that maybe this year, what with the kidnappings, and the dark mark on their doorway, that perhaps, just _perhaps_ her parents would want to be there when she got off the train to take her home.

But they weren't. They never were.

She didn't even have it in her to be disappointed any more.

"Got your trunk, Anderson?" Riley Carrow approached her, pushing her trunk on a trolley.

Ella nodded. "Yeah. Got yours?"

Riley looked at her with an odd expression, and slowly pointed to the trolley. Ella could have slapped herself.

"Right," she said, "sorry."

"You seem strange," Riley commented offhandedly.

"Thanks."

"I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well, I'm fine," Ella said, a little more snappily than she intended.

Riley held up her hands in mock surrender, but her green eyes seemed to be studying Ella rather intensely. Ella shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like being scrutinised. It made her feel naked, as if she'd done something wrong and everyone knew it and was judging her for it.

"What?" she said.

Riley shook her head, prompting the Ravenclaw to give an exasperated sigh.

" _What_?" she repeated.

Riley bit her lip and tilted her head to one side ever-so-slightly, as if she was considering what to say, or perhaps whether to speak at all. After what seemed like an eternity, she said, "My parents don't come to the platform either."

Of all the things she had been expecting Riley Carrow to say, this was certainly not one of them. A snappy retort, sure, but something that seemed empathetic? Ella had known Riley for four years, and yet she'd never considered her a friend, not in the same way that she did Alfie, Teddy and even Victoire. They'd never exchanged more than a perfunctory conversation, even in the aftermath of London when Ella had been visibly reeling.

And for all of the books that she'd read, all of the knowledge that she'd accumulated, she had no idea how to respond. Instead she stood gaping at the Slytherin who stared back with a strange intensity until at last, she cracked a small smile and walked away without another word.

 _.oOo._

 _V: Flowers for Christmas_

Daisy Shipkins had never been so glad to go home in her life.

As she got off the train and headed to pick up her trunk, she kept her head down, her long red hair covering her face. She _hated_ Hogwarts. She hated all of the stupid girls in her house, she hated that idiot Professor McGonagall, and most of all, she hated Bella Watson. After all, if it wasn't for Bella Watson, she wouldn't be in this situation - alone, friendless, hurt.

But deep down in her heart, Daisy knew that Bella wasn't responsible for what had happened. After all, it had been Laura who'd bullied Bella, who'd made up that rumour about her sleeping with Professor Macmillan, and in the end, it had been Laura who'd paid for it. If only Daisy didn't have to be dragged down with her. It was bad enough to have her big sister, the person she'd looked up to practically since she was born, be humiliated in front of the entire school. Why did she, too, have to suffer?

 _Life_ , Daisy thought miserably, _just isn't fair_.

"Penny for your thoughts, Miss Shipkins?"

Daisy spun around startled. She let out a sigh of relief, however, when she saw Professor Smith standing near her, the edges of his lips quirked up in a smile. "Professor, you scared me."

"My apologies," he said. "Any plans for the holidays?"

Daisy shook her head. "Just home. I can't wait to see my parents again."

"I'll bet. Any plans with your friends? I remember when I was at Hogwarts, I used to always try and meet up with my friends during the holidays." There was a misty look in his eyes that Daisy was used to seeing in very old people, whose school days had long since passed them by. She was somewhat surprised to see it in Smith - he wasn't that old, after all, and she was sure that he still saw his old school friends regularly. He didn't seem like the kind of person who'd push them all away.

 _Not like her_.

She shook her head and lied through her teeth, "They're all busy."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

It was all she could do not to laugh. _That Smith_. Ever since that day in the corridor, when she'd bunked class after her sister had been given her punishment, she'd felt as if Smith understood her in a way very few others did. No other teacher had ever seemed to care about her in the way that Smith did; she'd never had a personal conversation with any of them and quite frankly, she wouldn't be comfortable having one. Smith was different. There was something about him that made him approachable, easy to talk to.

"No," she admitted. "They're all… mad at me."

It felt strange saying it out loud.

"Because of your sister?"

"Kind of." Daisy shuffled uncomfortably. "I guess I've been a bit rude to them lately as well. I've just been… so worried about Laura, you know, and I guess I just snapped. At them. A lot."

Smith gave her a comforting smile. "Oh, Daisy. I'm sure they'll forgive you."

"I don't think they will," she replied mournfully. "There's this one girl they've all become friends with. Matilda Goshawk. She's never liked me. I bet you she'll turn them all against me."

"Then you'd better do something before she does."

"Like what?"

Smith paused for a second. "Listen. When I was about your age, something similar happened to me. All of my friends decided that they didn't want to be my friend anymore, and I was hurt and unhappy because I didn't know what I'd done wrong. I don't even think I _had_ done anything wrong, but I convinced myself that I'd been mean to them and snapped at them, even though they'd probably been equally rude to me - all friends get irritated with each other occasionally, right? Anyway, I took it upon myself to apologise, even though I thought it was a bit unfair since I hadn't done anything wrong. I sent everyone a Christmas card, telling them how sorry I was."

"And did it work?"

Smith nodded. "It did. Perhaps you should try something similar."

"Perhaps I should," Daisy murmured.

She wished him a merry Christmas and went to retrieve her trunk. This time, however, she brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind a year. She couldn't believe that Professor Smith had gone through such a similar experience when he was in school. She supposed it was further evidence that they really were very alike indeed.

Well then, if Christmas cards had worked for Smith, there was no reason whatsoever that they couldn't work for her.

Daisy Shipkins was about to turn over a new leaf.

.oOo.

 _VI: Correspondence_

[Intercepted by the Ministry of Magic]

 _18_ _th_ _December, 2013_

 _A –_

 _Everything is going to plan. Unless you hear anything further from me, take this as your final confirmation._

 _Please pay my respects to the Follower._

[File under: miscellaneous]

.oOo.

 _VII: Quick to tire_

Ella Anderson was well and truly bored.

The first few days of her holiday had been lovely. Although she missed her friends terribly, it had been lovely to see her parents, brother and Rajiv again. Her parents had been home all weekend, and they'd spent a lot of time together as a family, something that they rarely had enough time to do. Ashton had been talking almost non-stop about his school and friends, and her parents had shown significant interest in what she'd gotten up to during her time away at Hogwarts. They'd asked about all her friends, and she'd happily told them everything, including about her relationship with Leonardo.

But all good things eventually had to come to an end. Monday arrived and her parents went back to work, and Ashton was given strict instructions to study for his mock exams that were coming up after Christmas, leaving Ella alone in her spacious, but awfully empty Kensington home. She'd spent the whole morning with her nose stuck in a book, but found her concentration waning in the afternoon: the words were beginning to blur together and she just couldn't find a comfortable position on her bed. Sighing, she snapped it shut and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She wished that Teddy and Alfie lived in London so that she could go and see them. Riley did live quite nearby, but Ella had never been in touch with her during the holidays and didn't think it likely that the younger girl would want to make plans to go for coffee or something.

Thank Merlin for Leonardo Torricelli, she thought, rolling over to check the clock on her bedside table. They were going to meet for a cake date in an hour at a bakery that had just opened on the Kensington HIgh Street and Ella was over the moon. She couldn't believe how well her relationship with Leo was going. They'd been dating for around one and a half months now, and she couldn't have been any happier. He was sweet and caring, and they had so much in common that they never ran out of things to talk about. And even though he hadn't told her that he loved her, she sort of understood. He was a boy, after all, and boys needed more time to figure things out. They weren't as in touch with their feelings.

She was thrilled to have him in her life.

When the clock hit three thirty, she practically waltzed out of her room and down the ornate staircase. She had done her hair and make-up impeccably and was wearing her new blue coat from her parent's winter collection. She felt on top of the world.

"And where are you going, young lady?"

"Mum!" Ella started.

Rhea Anderson was standing at the bottom of the staircase, her arms folded in front of her. She was dressed in a simple, perfectly tailored white pantsuit, and her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail. She wore a stern expression, not unlike Ella's when she was lecturing her friends about something or the other, but her face was much rounder and softer.

"I didn't think you were home," Ella mumbled as she descended. Her mother and father were often at their offices until late in the evening, especially in the run-up to Christmas when they were trying to get as much done as possible so that they and their staff could have a stress-free break. It was unusual to see Rhea home before four.

"I just got back. Rajiv went out shopping earlier - I thought we could spend some time together. Maybe bake something, when we used to when you were little." Rhea reached out and ruffled her daughter's hair. Ella yelped and, moving back slightly, tried to make it settle down again. "But I see you've got other plans."

There was a sad tinge in her mother's voice that made Ella feel rather guilty. "I was going to meet Leo," she admitted.

"Where?" Rhea's brow furrowed. "You shouldn't be going out this late, Ella. It's dark."

Despite herself, Ella felt a rush of irritation go through her. "That doesn't stop anyone else, especially not in winter."

"It's not safe."

"It's three thirty!"

"It's not safe," Rhea repeated slowly.

"It's perfectly safe!" Ella exclaimed. "I'll be going to Diagon Alley and I'll be home before five."

"That isn't the point."

"That's exactly the point! Why don't you trust me?"

"Ella, this isn't about you," Rhea began calmly, but Ella wasn't willing to listen. She could feel her palms getting sweaty and her cheeks getting very, very red.

"No, that's exactly what it is! You're just mad that I don't want to spend every waking moment of the day with you! Well, guess what, Mum? I have friends!"

"I know that you -"

"And I'm sick and tired of doing _nothing_ while you and Dad are out all day. I appreciate what you're doing for me, but you can't expect me to just drop everything as soon as you come home!"

"Enough!" Rhea exclaimed, shocking her daughter into silence. Ella's mother was a very calm individual, perhaps as a result of all the things she had been through in life. She had seen a lot, dealt with a lot, and as a result, very little could faze her. There were few times in Ella's childhood that her mother had shouted at her - she'd been stern, yes, or disappointed when Ella had broken the rules, but she had very rarely raised her voice.

When she continued, her voice was soft again, but shaky. "In case you don't remember, Ella, two months ago, the dark mark was magically imposed on our doorway. I might not be a witch, but I'm not an idiot. Whoever did that was sending us a very clear message: they know who we are, they know _what_ we are, and they know where we live. The fact that you have magic, that you are not like the rest of us does _not_ make you immune."

An uneasy feeling rose in Ella's stomach. Her mother had been quick to reassure her that everything was fine after the London attacks, that they were in no danger, and they hadn't spoken about it since, preferring instead to focus on other non-magical topics. She hadn't realised that it still worried her mother. But then again, how could it not?

"Mum," she began, "I know you're worried. But we can't stop living our lives just because of what's going on out there. I can protect myself."

Rhea's dark eyes met Ella's. "Can you?"

Ella shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing's happened since the dark mark was cast in Hogsmeade, and that was in _Hogsmeade_. Nothing's happened in London for ages. For all we know, the people behind all these things, they're not even here."

"We don't know that."

"We don't know anything!"

There was silence as Ella realised she'd made her mother's case for her. Breaking eye contact, she cursed under her breath.

"Call Leo," Rhea said. "Let him know that you won't be able to make it, but tell him that he's more than welcome to come and visit whenever he would like. If you two are going to go out, I want it to be either here in the neighbourhood, where Rajiv can keep an eye on you, or in Marylebone, by our offices. Am I clear?"

Ella, stubborn as she was, said nothing. In that moment, she hated her mother for being overbearing and overprotective.

And yet she knew that in her position, she would do exactly the same thing.

So she turned around, walked up the stairs and, cursing once more, for she hated to be proven wrong and to give in, reached for her phone.

She hated that her mother was right. She hated that the kidnappings, the _stupid_ kidnappings had affected her life like this. She hated being vulnerable, and most of all, she hated having to be afraid.

(Little did she know that she hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet).

 _.oOo._

 _VIII: Kidnapped!_

If there was one place Tabitha James hated in London, it was Knightsbridge.

She was no stranger to wealth and decadence; she was born only a few streets away from Belgravia, and now lived in a rather expensive duplex apartment in Bloomsbury. Still, there was something about Knightsbridge that irked her. Perhaps it was how touristy and fake the place was. With large international chain shops and expensive restaurants, it just didn't feel like the kind of place a person would or even could live. It didn't have any character; it felt like a corporation, rather than a residential district.

She was incredibly irritated when Robards had Flooed her at eight in the morning on her weekend off. She became even more frustrated when he refused to give her any details on the supposedly urgent situation she needed to investigate. And she was incensed when she found out that she would have to go to Knightsbridge.

Thankfully, she was early enough to avoid the crowds and arrived at the apartment - the first floor of converted Victorian manor - to find Auror Munroe waiting outside the door for her.

She only just managed to suppress a groan. Munroe was still her prime suspect, though she had yet to find any conclusive evidence tying him to the crimes. And yet despite being fully aware of her theories, Robards had elected to keep Munroe on the case. While Tabitha understood that they couldn't exactly fire him without making him suspicious, she didn't like the fact that Munroe had such privileged access to the investigation.

She greeted him coolly before enquiring, "When did you get here?"

"Ten minutes ago - I live fairly nearby."

Of course he did.

"Have you been in yet?"

"Yes. Spoken to the parents, who are understandably distraught. The mother broke down in tears before I could get anything useful out of her, so I came out here to cover up the mark and wait for you. Figured it would be more productive."

 _The mark_.

The words sunk in slowly, like icicles slowly melting just under her skin, like freezing droplets of water trickling through her veins until they finally reached her heart. She noticed the spot on the door next to Munroe - it wasn't quite the same colour and texture as the rest of the surface. "You don't mean -" she began before breaking off, not wanting to assume anything. "What exactly is going on here?"

Munroe fixed her with a stare, his eyes cold and blue. "Didn't Robards tell you? There's been another kidnapping, likely by the same people considering the dark mark was engraved in the door. And this time, it's of a muggle."

 _.oOo._

 _IX: Dear Teddy … Love Ella_

 _21st December, 2013_

 _Dear Teddy,_

 _I assume you've heard about the kidnapping by now. If you haven't, then you really must start reading the Daily Prophet more regularly - I know your grandmother has it delivered, so you haven't got an excuse._

 _It's awful, isn't it? That poor boy. He probably doesn't even know what he's been kidnapped for - imagine being kidnapped and then being told that your kidnappers are magical. I'd think that they'd gone mad, but then again, I suppose you do have to be mad to kidnap a child, don't you?_

 _Anyway, I just thought I'd write and tell you that you might as well forget all about my theory. I knew it was rubbish - all speculation, of course, there was no real evidence that everything was linked to Hogwarts. It was all correlational, and I, being silly, fell for it- there's no way that this latest kidnapping is related to the school, especially since they said in the newspaper that the boy was eleven and wasn't a squib. Thank goodness we didn't go to Tabitha James - she'd have laughed us right out of her office!_

 _I do hope that you're having a good holiday! Mum's become a bit stringent about security and safety and all that - neither Ashton nor I are allowed to go anywhere unless Rajiv comes with us. I understand that it's for my own safety etc. etc. but it is quite annoying/frustrating/irritating. Oh well._

 _I should go now - you'll hear from me again soon, and the next letter you get will have your Christmas present attached! Lucky you ;)_

 _Love,_

 _Ella_

 _PS: I've attached a cutout of the Daily Prophet article on the kidnapping, in case you did miss it. It's a photocopy - that's why the pictures don't move. I've sent one to Alfie too, and I'm keeping the original for my records._

 _ **Muggle Boy Kidnapped From Knightsbridge  
**_ _Auror Office suspects link to muggleborn kidnappings._

 _LONDON, UK. Sources inside the Ministry of Magic have revealed that an eleven-year-old muggle boy, identified to The Daily Prophet as A. Dursley, was kidnapped from his Knightsbridge home on the morning of the 20th of December. The Auror Office was contacted upon the discovery of a dark mark inscribed into the doorway, and have been investigating since._

 _The appearance of the dark mark has sparked considerable suspicion that the kidnapping may be linked to the kidnappings of Melissa Cooper, an eleven-year-old muggleborn girl, and Leslie Stiles, a thirteen-year-old witch attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, both of which have been associated with the mark. However why those responsible for the earlier kidnappings would show interest in a muggle boy who, The Daily Prophet can confirm, is not a Squib and has no initially discernible link to the magical world, remains unclear. Head Auror Gawain Robards said on the possibility of a link that the Auror Office could neither confirm nor deny that the kidnappings were carried out by the same person or group of persons, and refused to give any further comment, stating that speculation on the case would be "premature and uncalled for."_

 _The Auror Office is remaining tight-lipped on the details of the case and subsequent investigation. Sources reveal that Auror Tabitha James, who has been investigating the kidnappings of Miss Cooper and Miss Stiles is leading the enquiry into the kidnapping. Whether this is the best choice remains unclear: Auror James, though well-respected for her previous work on the Kitchins case and Mungworth enquiry, has yet to turn up any sizeable leads on the kidnappings, and many within the wizarding community are beginning to doubt her capability to solve the case. Perhaps, some argue, it is time for a set of fresh eyes. Continued on page 5._

Teddy sat on his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, re-reading both Ella's letter and the newspaper clipping. He had seen the article when it had first come out in the newspaper the previous morning, and it had sent shockwaves through his body. One would think that with all the shocking things that had been happening in the world of late, he would have become desensitised, and yet with each new development, he felt himself becoming more and more unsettled. What had started off as a lone incident - the horrible, but isolated kidnapping of Melissa Cooper - had quickly escalated into a chain of events that seemed almost uncontrollable. He held onto the hope that it would all end sooner, rather than later, but even that hope seemed to be dissipating rather quickly. A muggle boy? What on Earth would wizards want with a muggle boy?

It didn't seem to make any sense. Like both the article and Ella pointed out, the kidnapping seemed to be perpetrated by the same people behind Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles' disappearances and yet it seemed so separate. It had no link to Hogwarts - if it wasn't for the mark, it wouldn't have had any link to the magical world at all. And yet Teddy couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that there was some sort of close relation. He didn't know what it was, but he'd had this feeling ever since he'd read the boy's name.

 _Dursley._ He _knew_ he'd heard that name before.

Ella would probably say that he was being silly, that he'd become too attached to her theory. He thought for a moment about how she didn't know that he'd sent it to Tabitha James anonymously. He wondered whether the Auror had even read it, or whether she'd thrown it out, assuming it was from some sort of raving lunatic who was too obsessed with the kidnappings for his own good. If she had read it, Teddy hoped that she'd seen the logic behind it. Perhaps he was attached to the theory, perhaps he did hope that it had some substance, perhaps he wanted to somehow indirectly play a role in catching the bad guys, but he wasn't ready to give up on it just yet.

He'd _definitely_ heard that name before. If only he could remember where.

He was distracted from his thoughts however when there was a sharp rap on the door downstairs. Curious, he jumped up and had just left his room when he heard his grandmother exclaim, "Well, isn't this a lovely surprise!"

"I got off work early and thought I might pop around to see my favourite neighbour and my godson," Harry Potter said, hanging his coat and scarf on the hook by the door and kissing Andromeda on the cheek. "Where is Teddy?"

"Right here!" Teddy exclaimed, barrelling down the stairs and into his godfather's arms. "I haven't seen you in ages, Uncle Harry!"

Harry laughed and enveloped the Hufflepuff into a hug. "Yes, I'm afraid they've been keeping me rather busy at work."

"I can't say I'm surprised," Andromeda said, shaking her head as she led the two boys into the living room, "what with this horrible kidnapping. Take a seat, won't you, Harry dear? I'll put the kettle on."

"That's quite alright, Andromeda, I don't want to trouble you."

"Nonsense!" The older woman shooed him over to the sofa. "You've had a long day, you make yourself comfortable. Teddy, be a dear and help me with the tea."

Teddy followed his grandmother into the kitchen and arranged biscuits and chocolates on a platter. He helped her bring out the drinks - cups of tea for her and Uncle Harry, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate for himself - before sitting next to his godfather on the sofa and helping himself to a particularly tasty miniature chocolate frog.

"I'm surprised they let you off early, Harry dear," Andromeda commented. "I'd have expected that they would have needed all hands on deck right now, what with the kidnapping of the Dursley boy, and your knowledge would have likely been useful."

Teddy thought he saw a flicker of irritation pass over his godfather's face.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid that Robards felt I was… too emotionally involved." Harry's tone of voice suggested that he disagreed, but neither Andromeda nor Teddy said anything. "Robards has me in charge of talking to Dudley and his wife, Beatrice, but I'm not party to anything else going on in the investigation, and Beatrice is understandably upset. I left because she'd clearly had quite enough for the day, and I thought it best to let her rest for a while."

"Understandable," Andromeda murmured, sipping her tea. "The poor mother. I can't imagine…" she trailed off.

There was silence for a moment, until Teddy, confused, turned and said, "Uncle Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I'm confused."

The Auror looked mildly amused. "About what?"

"Why does Auror Robards think you're too emotionally involved?"

Harry glanced at Andromeda, who sighed and nodded. He turned back to Teddy. "If I tell you something, Teddy, you must promise not to tell anyone else. I'm sure it will come out in due time, but for the moment, the Ministry is trying to keep this under wraps."

"I promise," Teddy replied solemnly.

"The boy who was kidnapped is named Arlington Dursley and he's… well, he's my nephew. Of sorts. His father, Dudley, is my cousin."

 _That's_ where he'd heard the name before. He'd heard his godfather mention his cousin a few times - they weren't close, but he knew that Uncle Harry visited him occasionally, if only just to keep in touch. He had never met Dudley or Arlington himself, but his blood went cold all the same. The kidnapping suddenly felt a whole lot more personal.

"Teddy?" Harry said.

"Did you meet him?" Teddy asked. "Arlington? Have you met him?"

There was silence for a moment before Harry nodded. "Yes. He was a lovely boy."

Teddy said nothing. He was aware of a million thoughts and questions racing through his mind, but he couldn't articulate a single one.

"Listen, Teddy, I don't want you to worry about this." Harry reached forward and grasped Teddy's hand. "It'll be alright, I promise. The Ministry's working hard on this, they'll find him soon enough."

Would they? Teddy had his doubts. He couldn't help but agree with the _Daily Prophet_ article - perhaps it was time for the case to get a pair of fresh eyes. Tabitha James had been on it for months and made no progress. He knew that she was supposed to be the best Auror there was, but surely she was missing something crucial that perhaps someone else could detect.

"Perhaps we should change the subject," Andromeda murmured, sipping her tea. "How are the boys, Harry?"

It was another half an hour before Harry left. Teddy tried to get him to stay longer, but he needed to get home - Ginny had an important appointment, and he had to look after the children. Teddy told him to give James, Albus, and Lily his love, and then went upstairs, leaving his grandmother to see him out.

Upon reaching his room, he shut the door behind him and walked over to his desk, sitting down with a sigh. He wasn't sure what to do. The fact that Arlington Dursley was related to his godfather wasn't exactly unimportant - it linked the boy to the wizarding world, and it may even suggest a possible motive behind the various attacks and kidnappings (though Teddy sincerely doubted that they were meant to target his uncle Harry in some way - there were much more effective ways to do that, and Harry wasn't even the Auror assigned to the case). Ella and Alfie - Ella especially, since she followed the case so carefully - needed to know, and yet he'd promised not to tell anyone.

But then again, surely the rules could be broken, just this once?

He hated breaking his godfather's trust, but there was something in him that told him that this was what he needed to do.

Opening his desk drawer, he extracted his quill and a sheet of parchment. It was rather stuffy in his room, so he decided to open his window slightly. When he settled back down into his chair, he became aware of voices drifting in from outside. Curious, he attempted to listen.

"- nothing that's been big enough to warrant a full investigation, or even full punishment yet," Harry was saying.

Andromeda said something in reply, but Teddy couldn't quite hear her. He got up and quietly tiptoed over to the window, and, flattening himself on the wall next to it, began to pay attention once again.

" - worry."

"No, no, of course not." Uncle Harry again. "It's nothing to worry about - that's why I didn't want to say anything in front of Teddy. Though there may be more of them, they're infrequent and like I said, completely minor. Nothing worse than a black eye."

Silence for a moment, then Andromeda: "I didn't think -"

"Neither did I," Harry sighed.

"I just want this whole situation to be over."

"Me too. Regardless of what the _Prophet_ may imply, we're doing our darndest in the office to make sure that it is over as soon as possible." Pause. "I should be going."

"I appreciate you telling me this. I won't breathe a word."

"Thank you. The last thing we need is the _Prophet_ getting wind of increased incidents against muggleborns. They'll have a field day with that one, and quite honestly, they've pulled one too many over the Ministry of late."

Teddy's throat constricted. _Increased incidents against muggleborns?_ What could that mean? There couldn't have been more attacks or dark marks - his uncle Harry would have told him if it was something that serious, or he'd have heard about it in the paper, or something. Harry had said that they were minor and infrequent but still...what sorts of incidents?

 _Alfie_.

He saw a flash of his best friend's chocolate brown eyes and messy hair, and felt his heart pang. He wasn't in any danger, was he?

He didn't mention what he'd overheard in his letters to Ella and Alfie. While it was likely important, he didn't have enough details, and didn't want to upset them pointlessly and detract from their holidays. Still, it continued to weigh on his mind all the way until dinnertime. Should he have warned Alfie to be extra vigilant? What if something happened? Were any of them safe?

"You haven't touched your soup," Andromeda commented gently.

"Huh?" Teddy looked up at his grandmother, and then back down at his bowl of pumpkin soup. "Oh. Sorry."

"Is something worrying you, dear?"

"What? What gave you that idea?"

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "Your hair is turning a rather awful shade of mousy brown. Your mother's used to do that when she was stressed about something."

Teddy felt a familiar wave of sadness run through him. "I'm just … thinking."

"About what Uncle Harry said earlier?"

He nodded. "That."

"And?"

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of exactly what to say. He could bring up what he'd overheard, but he doubted it'd take him anywhere beyond assurances that he was completely safe and it was nothing for him to worry about. Instead, he voiced a question that he'd tried to ignore, that he'd tried to put out of his mind, but that had haunted him regardless.

"Is this what it was like … then? Back during the second wizarding war?"

His grandmother, usually so calm and composed, faltered. He found himself unable to meet her eyes. The wizarding war had been a dark time for her, and he knew she hated going back there, revisiting the memories that caused her so much pain. He almost wished he'd never said anything at all.

"No," she said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "No, Teddy, Merlin no."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I just…I don't really know what it was like, and it seems like such a dark time, and right now…" he faltered. "I don't know what to say, Gran, but it feels like everything's falling apart."

"I know." She reached forward and clasped his hand in hers, their fingers intertwining. "I know, my darling. But you are safe. As long as I live, and even after, I will ensure that you are safe no matter what."

"I know," he said, a sad smile stretching across his lips, for he knew it was true. His grandmother, though ageing, was a tough lady. She would do anything for him. "It's just … scary."

"The war wasn't long ago, Teddy. People remember it. And while they remember it, nothing like it will ever happen again."

He met her gaze and ever so slowly, nodded. He wanted nothing more than to believe her.

And yet somehow, he couldn't.

.oOo.

 _X: Correspondence (II)_

[not intercepted by the Ministry of Magic]

 _21st December 2013_

 _The job's done. Transported to Safe House with the other two. Awaiting the Follower's instructions._

* * *

 **A/N:** It's been ages! Progress on TLC is slow, but steady - I have exams right now, so no idea when the next chapter will be, but this story definitely isn't over yet, so keep checking back (in the next chapter, there'll be lots more Alfie and Victoire, who didn't really feature very much in this chapter, a sneak peek into Riley's home life, and one of Harry Potter's famous Christmas parties) xx Thank you for sticking with me - I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Chapter 13: Christmas Day

**A/N:** Pay attention. Everything happens for a reason. Also, strong language ahead (in scene II).

 **Recap:** Ella figures out that everything that's happened - from the kidnappings, to the sightings of the dark mark - has had some sort of link to Hogwarts. She doesn't want to tell Tabitha James, so Teddy does it in secret, in the form of an anonymous letter. As a result, Tabitha begins to suspect her colleague, Auror Munroe, but has no concrete evidence or further leads. During the Christmas holidays, another child, the son of Dudley Dursley, is kidnapped.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Christmas Day**

Christmas Day can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people.

On the 25th of December 2013, Riley Carrow would stand up for what she believed was right. Alfie Hayes would wonder where he belonged in the world, and Ella Anderson would question her principles.

On the 25th of December 2013, Teddy Lupin would find that some things never change, and Victoire Weasley would find that some things do.

On the 25th of December 2013, Tabitha James would begin her fall from grace.

On the 25th of December 2013, Arlington Dursley, Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles would learn that they had a bigger role to play than any of them had ever imagined.

That Christmas Day meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

 _._ oOo.

 _I: Riley_

"It's Christmas Day."

She said the words softly as she stared out of the window, her breath forming patches of mist on the icy glass. The Estate always looked different on Christmas, she thought, as she stared out into the entrance courtyard. There was something magical about the way the water flowed from the marble fountain, the way the snowdrops bloomed, the way the evergreen foliage stood out against the stark whiteness of the house.

"Riley."

She looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway. Cecilia Carrow looked an awful lot like her daughter – they had the same sharp green eyes, brown hair, and pale skin. The key difference between them was the shape of their face: Cecilia's was square, characteristic of her Selwyn bloodline, whereas Riley's was sharp and angular, like her father's.

"I thought I would find you here. You always did like the view."

"Mm," Riley responded, turning her attention away from her mother and back to the gardens.

"The Travers are here," said Cecilia. "Isabella is in the upstairs drawing room – I told her you would be right along."

Riley groaned. "Did you _have_ to, mother? It's bad enough that she comes every year for Christmas lunch. Can't she just … I don't know, entertain herself? She's old enough – surely she doesn't need me."

"Darling," Cecilia sighed. She sat down on the window seat next to her daughter, and clasped her hand, linking their fingers together, "I know Isabella isn't your favourite person –"

"That's an understatement."

"—but she is your cousin, nonetheless. And family is family."

 _Oh believe me_ , Riley thought, _I know._

"I don't understand why they have to come," she grumbled. "I'd much rather it was just you, me and father. It hasn't been just the three of us in _ages_."

"And I'd much rather that it was just the three of us as well," Cecilia replied. "That way I wouldn't have to run around like a headless hippogriff making sure that the House Elves have cooked the turkey just the way Aunt Frederica likes it, and that the house looks like something out of a picture book, lest your Uncle Cyrus notice that there's a scratch on the grandfather clock that he bought your father and I for our twentieth anniversary."

At this, Riley cracked a smile. "He never has let you live that down, has he?"

"Gracious, no. Every single time I see him, he wants to know whether I've taken it to be repaired."

"You haven't, have you?"

Cecilia smiled and shrugged lightly. "I think it adds charm."

Riley scoffed. "Of course it does."

"My point is, dear, that there are some things we have to do, whether we like them or not. I might not like your aunt and uncle, but we still have them over every Christmas because we must keep up appearances, and Fredrica is your father's sister. And you may not like Isabella, but you are obliged, as a Carrow, as a member of this family to smile, and pretend."

 _Of course._

"It's just for a day," said Cecilia, squeezing her arm and giving her a pleading look. "You can manage a day, can't you, darling?"

Only it wasn't just a day, was it? It was every single minute of her life so far. All she ever did was smile and pretend – to be happy, to be normal, to be carefree and careless. She was always playing a part. At Hogwarts, she was the unflappable Riley Carrow: sarcastic and biting. She did whatever she could to forget, and make those around her forget, that she was a member of a wizarding family with questionable history. At home, she was Riley, with an emphasis on _Carrow_ : a dutiful member of an elite pureblood family. It felt as if she could never be herself.

 _Who was she anyway?_

Whoever she was, she was not anything like Isabella Travers. That much became apparent _very_ quickly.

Isabella was older: she was sixteen, but looked to be about twenty-one, with long flowing brown curls and big brown eyes framed by perfect lashes. Her skin was creamy and had the glow that came from a well thought-out and regularly adhered-to skincare regime.

She was home educated. She had gone to Hogwarts but had been there barely a week before returning home for reasons that were widely unknown. Riley suspected it was because she had been Sorted into Hufflepuff; although she didn't know for sure, it seemed like a good fit for her older cousin, who was _quite_ an airhead, and had spent the last fifteen minutes nattering on about some Pureblood boy who she'd met at some Pureblood party. Riley was trying rather hard not to fall asleep.

"He was _gorgeous_ ," Isabella sighed, "and so very sweet. Such a gentleman – can you imagine, wanting to ask Daddy's permission before asking me out?"

Riley thought that she would instantly break it off with any boy who attempted to do such a thing. What did her _parents_ have to do with who she went out with? It wasn't as if a date was going to lead to marriage.

"Dreamy," she said, irritably.

"Oh, _indeed_ ," said Isabella, twirling a lock of long brown hair around her fingers. "I think it'll work out quite nicely. He's a Yaxley, you know."

She'd only mentioned it four times.

"How wonderful."

If Isabella noticed the significant undertone of boredom in Riley's voice, she ignored it."He's the oldest of four boys. Going to inherit the house someday – oh, it's a _beautiful_ house, better than this one, definitely, and even more opulent than our own—"

Could this girl hear herself?

"—perfect for raising a family."

She'd been on _one_ date with this boy, and she was already thinking about children? Merlin.

"Sounds great."

Isabella seemed to pick up on Riley's irritation, for she paused and tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the Slytherin. "Do _you_ have a boyfriend, Riley?"

"Me?" She almost burst out laughing. "No."

"Why not? You don't strike me as the prudish type."

"It isn't that," said Riley. "It's more that…well…" None of them had shown any interest for starters. Liam Rosier had attempted to ask her out in third year, but she'd shot him down very quickly (and, upon reflection, rather harshly – she probably hadn't needed to tell him that she wouldn't go out with someone who had tucked his robes into his underwear in second year and not noticed for a whole day). After that, no one had asked. Victoire, on the other hand, got asked out _all_ the time. At first, Riley had thought that it was just because she was much prettier than her, but the Slytherin had to admit that she, too, was rather striking, albeit in a different way. Victoire was much warmer, though, and friendlier. Riley came off as aloof.

It wasn't as if she could tell Isabella that, however, and the older girl was watching her rather expectantly.

"I don't like any of them," she said, simply. "Hogwarts boys are rather immature."

This seemed to be the right answer, for Isabella smirked in response. "Oh, I understand that. All the Hogwarts boys I've met don't know _anything_ about the real world. I met one the other day who thought that all House Elves should be free, can you imagine that? He was a member of that stupid elf rights group and all he kept going on about was how it was so wrong for them to be bound into servitude and blah, blah, blah."

Riley figured that she ought not to mention that Victoire's aunt was the one who had set up that 'stupid elf rights' group. Instead, she nodded silently.

"He was a half-blood, of course," Isabella continued. "You'd be hard-pressed to find a pureblood who thought like that – we're all very set in our ways, aren't we? And with good reason too."

She spoke with all the confidence of a sixteen-year-old who felt as if she knew all there was to know about the world. It irked Riley, who found overconfidence unattractive.

"What reason would that be?" she asked innocently.

Isabella shot her a look. "The wizarding world," she began officiously, "has, as I'm sure you're aware, dear cousin, worked in a certain way for many years. And everything was just fine. All of the trouble nowadays – these kidnappings, these attacks in London – they're all because the muggleborns think that they can just waltz into this world, _our_ world, with their grand ideas about morality, and change everything. And –"

Isabella continued on, but Riley tuned her out. She had heard this before, but not from Isabella (who she didn't realise had a political bone in her body). It was the kind of thing that she'd heard at her father's parties, talk often exchanged between two (rich, male) purebloods who thought that no one else was listening. It was the kind of prejudiced talk that she had come to expect from certain adults who had grown up in a world different to her own. But it was not the kind of talk she expected from her own generation, certainly not her own cousin.

"Hold on a second," interrupted Riley, holding up a hand.

Isabella looked rather surprised. "Honestly, Riley, did your mother never teach you that interrupting your elders is rather rude? Although I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't – _my_ mother is always saying that –"

"Would you just shut up for a second?"

"Well, of all the—"

"You don't really believe that."

"What?"

"What you were saying earlier," Riley reiterated. "About the muggleborns. You don't really believe that. You're just repeating it."

"I am not."

"You heard someone say it – maybe it was that boyfriend of yours, I don't know – and you're just repeating it, that's all. You don't believe it."

"I'll decide what I believe and what I don't," said Isabella prissily, pushing her long locks of hair over her shoulder. "And I _believe_ that all of the bad things that have happened recently are because of muggleborns. Why else would _they_ have been taken, and not… I don't know, halfbloods?"

"Why…" Riley couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Isabella, for goodness sakes, don't be _dumb_ –"

"I am not! Mother says I'm rather intelligent, actually."

"Well, you're not showing it," snapped the younger girl. "What, you think that the muggleborns _wanted_ to be kidnapped?"

"But it's because of them that the wizard world is fractionated. If it wasn't for muggleborns, we'd all get along fine, wouldn't we?"

"No, I don't think we would!"

"Really?"

"Really. If it wasn't the muggleborns, we'd have found someone else to hate. Maybe it'd be the halfbloods, or maybe we'd just have turned on ourselves, but this isn't _their_ fault."

"So whose fault is it then?" asked Isabella, folding her arms against her chest. "If not the muggleborns, who do you blame, Riley?"

The question struck her off-guard.

She blamed a lot of people for a lot of things. She blamed Cyrus Teller and his friends for hanging her upside down in the corridor. She blamed Tabitha James for never so much as giving her a chance. She blamed the sixth-years who had caused her, at eleven, to become so scared that she had run into the Forbidden Forest at night, hoping to never come back.

But she understood them. She understood why Tabitha had never trusted her. She understood why people at Hogwarts hated her. She understood that her name inextricably linked her to the things that her family had done. Though she had never met her aunt and uncle, she understood that their actions performed in the name of blood purity would be tied to her as long as her last name was Carrow.

It didn't make what Cyrus Teller, or Tabitha, or the sixth-years had done was right, but it made them understandable. Their actions stemmed from the same root cause, from the same group of people who claimed to form the basis of the wizarding world, but were, in truth, responsible for tearing it apart.

"Us," she said, simply. "I blame us."

Isabella looked at her, surprised. There were a few moments of silence before she said, disgust in her voice, "I didn't realise you were such a mudblood lover, Carrow."

There was a time when Riley would have tried to make amends. A time when she would have taken back her words, pretended that she didn't mean them, attempted to recreate the persona of the perfect pureblood daughter.

But now she was tired.

"Funny," she said. "Neither did I."

.oOo.

 _II: Robards_

"For _fuck's sake_ , James…"

"Sir, I'm –"

"Let me tell you something," Gawain Robards said to Tabitha James, at 10AM on the 25th of December, 2013, "before coming here today, I sat by the Christmas tree with my son, and he told me to make a Christmas wish. What did I wish for, you ask?"

"Sir –"

He ignored her. "Was it for a nice, hefty bonus? Was it happiness for my family? Any guesses?"

"Sir –"

"It was for this _fucking_ case to be solved, that's what it was for. And – Merlin knows I must be getting soft in the head – I had a good feeling when I came in today. I thought, naively, that since it was Christmas and all is supposed to be right with the world that my so-called _best Auror_ would have _finally_ gotten a fucking lead. But that must have been too much to ask even goddamn Father Christmas for."

"Sir –"

"Oh, _shut up_ , James." The disgust was plain in his voice. "You've been suspecting Auror Munroe for over a week and you have done _nothing_ about it."

"Well, it isn't like you've taken him off the case!" exclaimed Tabitha, suddenly.

It was very difficult for him not to roll his eyes. "Yes, James, that wouldn't arouse his suspicion at _all_ would it. He is the only person, apart from you, who has been on this case from the beginning. What am I supposed to tell him, that he's off because he's under suspicion? What good would that do?"

"I'm sure you'd be more subtle about it, _Sir_ ," she replied cuttingly.

He chose to ignore the dig. "I am sick and tired, James, of you coming in here every morning with nothing to report."

"Take him off the ca—"

"I will not!" he snapped, and she shut up. "I've made my decision, Tabitha, and I'm sticking to it. Obstacles – tiny, insignificant obstacles like this have _never_ gotten in your way before. Do you know why you're on this case?"

She didn't reply.

"Do you?"

"I have some idea."

"Pray tell."

"You think I'm good."

He couldn't suppress the eye roll this time. "Modesty," he told her, "doesn't suit you, James. Yes, it's because I think you're good. It's because I think – or should I say _thought_ – that you were the best. Every single case I've put you on, you've solved, regardless of how difficult it was, or how many walls you had to jump over, or how many people you had to pretend not to care about in order to get the job done. No matter what you've had to do, you've done it, and you haven't batted a bloody eyelid. So what is it about this case that has you in such a mess?"

There was silence.

He watched her closely. She was hard to read, Tabitha James, but years of working with her had taught him to notice the small things – the tiny changes in her demeanour that signaled that something was awry. She was dressed impeccably, her make-up and hair perfect, but her eyes were flecked with red, as if she had been up for hours, working in low light. She held her arms by her side stiffly; her shoulders were tense with stress. He knew that her lack of progress on the case had nothing to do with her not working hard enough – hell, he didn't think he'd ever seen her work so hard – but it was to no avail.

"I don't know," she admitted softly.

He didn't want to ask, but he knew that he had to. "Should I take you off this case?"

Not ' _Do you want me to take you off the case?'_ This wasn't about her feelings. This was about what was best for the case, for the missing kids.

"I don't know."

There was nothing that irritated him more than indecision. "Damn it, James. Give me an—"

"No."

This took him by surprise (although it really shouldn't have, being as familiar with Tabitha's stubbornness as he was). "Why?"

"Because you don't want me off the case."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"There's something you aren't telling me."

"Pray tell."

"No. You tell." She folded her arms expectantly. Had it been any other Auror, Robards would have thrown them out of his office immediately for daring to show such gall, but Tabitha…

He'd known since the day that she walked into Auror Training, newly graduated from Hogwarts, but with her mouth set into a thin, determined line, with eyes as hard as if they had seen the world and decided they were unimpressed. He'd known since she'd set records on her final training tests, since she'd solved the Campoy murders in her first month as a fully qualified Auror. When Scrimengour had promoted him to head of the Auror office, he'd told him that there would come a day when he would see something in someone, and he would know.

"I'm retiring."

"What?" The shock was clear on the younger woman's face, and it was clear that whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this. "What do you mean you're –"

"I mean that I've been planning on leaving my position. For a while now, actually." He didn't tell her just how long. "I was to hand in my resignation the day after Melissa Cooper went missing but then… well, I couldn't. And I can't. Not until these children are found, not until this whole mess has been resolved. It wouldn't be fair on the people I swore to protect."

Tabitha's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not just on this case because you think I'm good, am I?"

He almost smiled at this. She was perceptive. "No," he admitted.

"It's a test."

"You could say that."

"And if I pass?"

"You prove to the higher ups that you are worthy of their support. You prove to me that I'm not misplacing my trust. You prove to everyone out there," he gestured to the roof above his head, "that you are the best person to keep them safe." He paused, before gesturing to the portraits behind his desk of the wizards and witches who had occupied this office before him. "And you prove to them that you can carry on their legacy."

"I—" she broke off. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," he told her. " _Do_ something. Are you sure it's Munroe?"

She hesitated; he could see the doubt in her eyes. "No," she admitted, "but he's the best lead we've got."

"Then get to him," he said. "Do whatever it takes, James. Get to him."

 _._ oOo.

 _III: Alfie_

Alfie Hayes sat at the dining table, not quite sure what he was doing there.

He had every right to be there – after all, it was his house, and he was in his normal seat, nearest to the fireplace. It was lunchtime, and his mother had covered the table in all manner of traditional Christmastime dishes, from turkey, to parsnips, to carrots, to Brussels sprouts (eugh), just as she did every year. And yet never before had Alfie felt so out of place.

It had all begun when earlier that morning, Professor Hayes had announced that he had invited a colleague of his, Dr. Miranda Madden, from the university over for Christmas lunch on account of her having just moved to Oxford (from Cambridge, of all places). It had all gotten worse when said colleague had waltzed in at half past eleven with her husband, and her two children in tow – and an hour later, as is inevitable with academics, they had started to talk about education.

"We were so _delighted_ ," Dr. Madden was saying as she helped herself to the roast potatoes, "when Millie and Alexander got their results."

" _Mum_ ," Millie Madden said, ducking her head with what Alfie was sure was mock embarrassment. He was sitting opposite the aforementioned children: they were twins, one year older than he was, and attended a rather posh boarding school near London.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Millie, darling. Ten A*'s apiece – we were so proud." She cast an adoring smile at her husband and Alfie felt his stomach sink. He might not attend a muggle school, but he still knew that ten A*'s at GSCE was certainly nothing to be sneezed at.

"Impressive," Professor Hayes said, inclining his head. "If you two keep that up, I see no reason why you shouldn't have a good chance at getting into Oxbridge."

"Oh, Oxford's my absolute dream," sighed Alexander. "I've been wanting to read English here ever since I was born. Millie, on the other hand is a Cambridge girl through and through. I've tried convincing her but –"

"I don't think I'll change my mind," the other finished for him, smiling at Professor Hayes. "I'm deciding between the new Human, Social and Political Sciences course and History – they both sound incredibly fascinating."

 _Or incredibly boring_ , Alfie thought, taking a sip of water. This entire conversation felt so irrelevant to him; he didn't take GSCEs, he wasn't going to go to Oxbridge. As the adults continued to fawn over the twins and their academic prospects, he moved his carrots absentmindedly around his plate with his fork – something his mother would usually tell him off for, if she wasn't so busy focused on the new arrivals.

He was therefore entirely unprepared when the attention turned to him.

"Alfie," his father said sharply. He looked up from his plate with a start.

"Pardon me?"

"Dr. Madden asked you a question."

He turned red. "I'm sorry, Dr. Madden, I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

"Oh, that's quite alright," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Your father's told me _so_ much about what a bright boy you are –"

At this, Alfie had to suppress a snort. _Yeah right_. His father was always lecturing him about how he needed to bring up his school grades if he wanted to get anywhere in life.

"—that, well, I was just wondering what _you_ were planning on doing after school. You must be having to pick your A-levels soon, so you _must_ have given it _some_ thought."

And that was when everything fell to pieces.

Alfie stared at Dr. Madden who looked back at him with bright, expectant eyes, not unlike a primary school teacher trying to coax an answer out of a reluctant five-year-old. He opened his mouth, but found that no words came out – his mind was completely blank. It was almost like he was in an exam that he hadn't studied for, like he was staring at the question paper, desperately trying to think of anything, anything at all. But nothing came to mind.

"I don't know," he said at last.

There was silence at the table. This, he realized, was clearly the wrong answer. Millie and Alexander were looking at him with slightly shocked expressions and Dr. Madden appeared taken aback. They, he thought bitterly, had probably had their lives planned out since they were in the cradle.

"What Alfie means to say," Professor Hayes said hurriedly, shooting a worried glance at his wife, "is that he's very stuck between two options – much like you, Millie."

"Oh," Dr. Madden smiled. "Yes, that I can understand. What would those options be, Alfie?"

His father shot him an expectant look. He hesitated for a moment. "Er –history. Yeah, I love history and I'm quite good at it but I'm also very fond of … um, maths."

"Those are really different," Alexander said, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"We know," Professor Hayes cut in, "Alfie's just…an all-rounder, really. So he can't decide whether to do the arts or the sciences."

"I _do_ sympathise," said Dr. Madden, placing a hand over her heart and smiling sadly at Alfie. "I think the A-level system is rather unfair to students like you. In fact, Timothy," she turned back to Alfie's father, "you haven't thought about putting him in the International Baccalaureate, have you? Because Millie was thinking about it, and I actually think it seems to be quite a good system."

The conversational focus now away from him, Alfie sank back into his chair, hoping he could simply blend into the background until the Madden family left.

And while the lunch did eventually come to an end, and the Madden's did leave the Hayes household, Alfie couldn't get Dr. Madden's question out of his head. He stood in the living room as his parents waved goodbye to their guests, staring at the baubles on the Christmas tree. Although he'd only sat under it that morning, unwrapping gifts, it suddenly felt like an eon ago.

 _I was just wondering what you were planning on doing after school_.

What _was_ he planning on doing after school?

He simply hadn't given it any thought. It was the sort of thing that he figured would just fall into place. After all, the muggle world had such a clear process: school, university, a job. Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn't really have a clue what the wizarding world was like. University certainly didn't seem to be as big of a thing, or he would have heard about it. He knew that you needed to undergo medical training in order to be a Healer, which he did not want to do, for he couldn't brew a potion to save his own life, but that was about it.

The uncertainty scared him.

It wasn't even as if he could come home. There might have been an established system in the muggle world but it had hit him that he was excluded from it and the safety, the predictability that it offered. He hadn't gone to an established secondary school. He wouldn't do GSCEs and A-levels, he would do O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s instead. And although he didn't think he ever _would_ come back to the muggle world, even if given the choice, for it would be too much of a waste to leave magic behind, it was terrifying to think that he was to spend the rest of his life in a world that he truly knew very little about.

For while Teddy had grown up in the wizarding world, and Ella had known about it since she was a baby, Alfie had only found out that magic was real when Professor Flitwick had shown up on his doorstep with his Hogwarts letter. His only true experience with the magical world was at Hogwarts, for each vacation, he returned to a normal, muggle existence. When it came down to it, he thought, he'd been living a kind of half-life – not truly magical, not truly muggle, but caught in-between, in a sort of limbo.

He liked to think that it would get better, but there was a nagging feeling in his stomach that made him wonder whether it would.

He read the _Daily Prophet_. He knew, despite the attempts of the Hogwarts staff and his friends to keep it from him, that muggleborns had never been truly accepted in the wizarding world. While he had been lucky enough never to experience the prejudice for himself, he knew that there were those out there who believed that wizards like him had no place in magical society, that they deserved to be stripped of their wands and cast out. What better evidence for the existence of such views than the recent kidnappings? And to think that no one had been convicted, that the Ministry still had no idea who was behind them …

What if a time came when the wizarding world decided they no longer wanted him? What was he to do then?

"Alfie, darling, there's some leftover Christmas pudding in the fridge if you'd—" Alfie's mother stopped abruptly upon seeing her son standing rigidly. "Alfie?" she said softly, approaching him and placing her hands gently on his shoulders. "What's wrong, honey?"

He shook his head. There was a time when he would have told her, poured his heart out to her, but this… he just didn't think she would understand. It was hard enough, having a son who was different, who was slowly moving out of her world and into another that she could never be a part of. He didn't want to add to that burden.

"Nothing," said Alfie, forcing a smile. An idea suddenly occurred to him. "Would you and dad mind if I used the phone? I just realized that I haven't wished my friends yet."

"Of course not," his mother said warmly. "Go right ahead."

"Thanks," he grinned, this time for real.

"Hello, Anderson residence, Ashton speaking!" said a cheery voice from the other end of the phone.

"Merry Christmas, Ashton," said Alfie. He had met Ella's brother once and had rather liked him. "Could I speak to Ella, please?"

"Who's calling? Are you her _boyfriend_?"

"Is it Leo?" Alfie heard a muffled female voice say in the background.

"Er, no," said Alfie. "It's Alfie. I'm her friend. From school. We've met, actually, I don't know if you remember but –"

"Oh, yeah, no, Alfie, hey! Of course I remember you. Ella's right here, in fact, I – _hey_!"

"Sorry," Ella's voice came over the phone and Alfie felt his spirits lift almost immediately. "Ashton got to the phone before I could and –"

"I was going to give it to you!" Ashton complained.

Ella ignored him. "Merry Christmas, Alfie! I was waiting for your call – how's your day been?"

"Meh. Not brilliant." He hesitated briefly, wondering whether or not to burden her with the details. He'd called her because he knew that out of all of his friends, she was the most likely to understand – Teddy would try, but he wouldn't relate in the same way that Ella, who had also grown up torn between the muggle and wizarding world, would be able to. But at the same time, he didn't want to dampen her mood by relating his confused feelings.

"Spill," she demanded.

"Are you sure? Because it _is_ Christmas and –"

"Do I sound like I care, Alfie?"

"No," he mumbled.

"Spill."

And so it all came out. Alexander and Millie's perfect GSCE grades, Dr. Madden's questions, his worries about muggleborn prejudice and where he belonged in the world. He talked, and Ella, to her credit, listened quietly, making the occasional monosyllabic sound to reassure him that she was still paying attention.

When he was done, there was silence for a few moments. He suddenly felt silly – he shouldn't have called Ella up to tell her all of this, not on Christmas. It didn't _really_ matter, and she was probably wondering _why_ he'd opened up his heart to her. He opened his mouth to apologise when she said, softly, "I get it."

This took him aback slightly. "You do?"

"Yeah," she said. "When I got my Hogwarts letter, I didn't know whether I'd… fit in in the magical world, given my family. That's why I didn't, why I _don't_ tell anyone about Mum or Ashton. And I get that fear that you have, because I'm terrified that when I apply for jobs, people are going to run background checks and see what they are, and judge me because of it. These kidnappings, they've made that fear so much worse for me, too."

"What are we supposed to do?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But…oh Merlin, this is going to sound so cheesy, but I guess at this point in time the only thing we _can_ do is have hope, for the best, you know? Hope that everything will work out as it's meant to be, hope that all this chaos will wash over eventually. I just don't think there's anything else we _can_ do."

"I guess," he said, chewing on his lip.

"Those people out there, whoever's behind these kidnappings, this is what they want."

"What?"

"For us to feel like this. Scared, uncertain whether we belong in the wizarding world. And as long as we feel like we don't deserve to be magical, they've won." She paused for a second, and then spoke again, her voice lower, "It was fear that drove my mum out, you know. She left the magical world because she felt like she was unwanted, like people would never see her as more than a Squib. Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't, but we'll never know now."

"Yeah, but that's different," Alfie began, but Ella cut him off.

"Is it though? The perpetrators of these attacks want muggleborns out – that's one thing that they've made very clear. The best way to stand up to them is to tell them that we're not going anywhere. _You're_ not going anywhere, Alfie. You belong."

That was all he truly needed to hear. "When did you get so good at giving pep talks?"

Even though she was miles away, he could see the smile spread across her face. "What can I say? I'm a natural."

When he hung up the phone fifteen minutes later, and entered the kitchen in search of the Christmas pudding that his mother had mentioned, he couldn't help but think (not for the first time) how fate worked in funny ways.

If he hadn't chosen to go to Flourish and Blotts on the 16th of August 2009, he might have never met Teddy Lupin, who had also been shopping for his first-year school supplies. If he hadn't met Teddy Lupin, then he wouldn't have stopped to chat with him in the corridors of the Hogwarts Express, and they wouldn't have been among the last people to take their seats on the train. If they hadn't been among the last people to find a carriage, they wouldn't have been forced to sit in one that was already occupied by a girl with long dark hair, glasses, and her nose stuck in a book.

And if they hadn't, then who knew whether Alfie Hayes and Ella Anderson would be best friends today?

Fate worked in funny ways, but it always seemed to work in the way that was ultimately right.

.oOo.

 _IV: Tabitha (I)_

Tabitha James hated Christmas.

Well, perhaps _hated_ was a slight exaggeration. It was more that she didn't understand the point of it. It was nice, she supposed, for families to be able to spend time together, for people to take time off work and have a bit of a break, but to hype up what was essentially just a single day seemed excessive to her. She didn't mean to be a downer; she was simply a realist. Christmas simply wasn't worth the excitement. Especially not this year.

Despite what Robards had told her earlier, she couldn't bring herself to be happy. Being the Head of the Auror department was what she had always wanted, but to actually get there, she had to solve this godforsaken case. Yes, their conversation had certainly injected into her a newfound sense determination, of will to finally put an end to the mystery, but she had no idea how she was to get to Munroe, how she was to firmly link him to the events.

Sighing, she opened up her case files from September and began to flick through them. The Melissa Cooper and Leslie Stiles disappearances were the segments of the case that she hadn't been through recently, for she believed that she had exhausted all materials available to her and thought her time would be better spent probing other events. Perhaps she had missed something.

Half an hour passed to no avail, and she was about to close the file, frustrated, when a slip of parchment slid out from between two documents. She lifted it up gingerly and examined it. It contained a list of names, written in her handwriting: Rosalind Kettleburn, Riley Carrow, Maisie Duncan, Ella Anderson.

A flicker of recognition went through her. It was the list that she'd made after her initial interviews at Hogwarts of students she had wanted to keep an eye on and investigate further. In truth, she hadn't actually managed to look into all of them. Carrow, of course, she had watched closely, but even she admitted that she might have focused on the girl excessively, and to the neglect of potential other leads. Kettleburn's knowledge had been exhausted – she had been interviewed extensively about Leslie Stiles and nothing she had said was of use, or had panned out. Maisie Duncan, in reality, knew little – the only information she had been able to provide was where Leslie Stiles had last been seen, and questioning had turned up nothing else. Anderson, on the other hand…

Tabitha hadn't had the time to look into the Ravenclaw. Once she'd finished looking into the other three, the London attacks had occurred, and she'd forgotten all about Ella Anderson. She'd written her name down more out of interest than anything else. Tabitha had grown up in a magical household, and had interacted with witches and wizards her whole life, and yet she had never before met the magical child of a Squib. She knew that Squibs often had magical descendants, but she had always thought that it took a few generations for the magic to rear its head again. Ella Anderson appeared to be an interesting exception to her theory.

Tabitha was a firm believer that when something wasn't working out, changing tracks was often a good call. She wasn't getting anywhere with Munroe, so a few hours spent investigating Ella probably wouldn't hurt. She reached for an interdepartmental memo, and scribbled a request on it before sending it off to the Department of Records. Soon enough, a slight wizard with glasses too large for his face appeared at her desk, a large stack of files in his arms. She thanked him, and began perusing.

Birth records, memos of accidental magic, Hogwarts transcripts, work experience applications… everything the Ministry had on Ella Anderson and her immediate family was in front of her. Tabitha worked deftly, skimming through each document, searching for something relevant.

Thirty minutes later, she opened a file containing a single sheet of parchment. She rotated it so that it was landscape, and scanned it, biting her lip in concentration.

She had to read it twice just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

 _She knew that name_.

"Merlin's beard."

Perhaps everything was starting to fall into place at last.

 _._ oOo.

 _V: Ella_

Christmas had never been a big deal in the Anderson household. Both Rhea and Callum Anderson had tried to make it a special occasion when the children were little and still believed in Santa Claus, but once their business had taken off, it had become little more than a calendar holiday, celebrated because everyone else celebrated it.

Therefore, when they had announced to Ella and Ashton that they would be hosting a Christmas party, both children had been incredibly surprised.

It wasn't a particularly Christmas-y party, Ella thought, as she stood at the bar that evening, waiting for the man behind to make her a virgin mojito. The house was decorated with holly and snowflakes, and the Christmas tree was beautifully lit, but the party itself felt like every other party her parents held. It was more a networking dinner than anything else; the only difference was that this time, the executives had come with their spouses and children.

She supposed she wasn't surprised. Ella didn't really have any extended family; her grandparents had all died, and her father was an only child. Her mother had a sister, she thought, but she'd never met her. From what she understood, she was magical, and hadn't kept in contact with Rhea Anderson after she'd moved into the muggle world as a young teenager.

The barman handed her her drink and Ella moved back into the sea of people in her living room. She felt rather out of place, not entirely sure what to do, or where to go. Her father was talking animatedly with one of his employees, and although he caught her eye and gave her a little wave, Ella did not want to interrupt. Her mother was also in deep conversation with the head of a children's fashion company that Ella knew the Anderson's were thinking of acquiring. Her brother was goodness-knows-where. Ashton had convinced their parents to let him invite a few friends over, and he had disappeared off to a different part of the house as soon as they had arrived. Wherever he was, he was probably having a much better time than Ella.

"Ella?"

She turned around to see a tall, thin girl, her brown hair falling to her shoulders in perfect ringlets. It took her a moment to place her, but when she did, her face broke out into a smile. "Delphine!"

"It's been too long," said the other girl, hugging her eagerly.

"It has," Ella assented.

"Not my fault, though," Delphine teased. "You're the one who went off to boarding school, joining the ranks of all the other posh girls who spend all their time in the country and only return to London during the holidays."

At this, Ella snorted. "Says you." Delphine, who she'd gone to primary school with, was the daughter of a wealthy artist, and lived just off Sloane Square. Although still at day school in London, Ella knew that she had a place at Bedales for the upcoming academic year. "How have you been, though? School's probably keeping you busy."

At this, Delphine made a face. "GSCEs are the bloody worst thing that could happen to a girl. My parents have some grand idea that I'm going to go to Oxbridge some day. I hate to let them down, but I'm going to be lucky if I get two A*'s."

"Me too," Ella said quickly, but Delphine gave her a funny look.

"Come on, Ella. You were always a brainbox. I'd be surprised if you get anything _less_ than an A*."

At this, Ella blushed and murmured something incomprehensible. Although she – and everyone around her – knew that she was clever, she didn't like her intelligence being explicitly referred to in conversation. For one, she never knew what to say in response, and so instead, she swiftly changed the subject. "Are your parents here?"

Delphine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they're probably drifting around somewhere."

"I'd love to say hi."

"I can take you over. I'm not planning on staying long though."

"Oh?" Ella quirked an eyebrow. "Got somewhere to be?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Delphine took a sip of the clear, fizzy drink she was holding. "A guy from school's having a party at his house. His parents are away for Christmas, and I hear the place is gorgeous." She paused for a second. "You know, you could probably come, if you wanted to."

Her first instinct was to say no. She didn't know the person hosting it, and she probably wouldn't know anyone there except Delphine. London was lovely, but it wasn't the safest city in the world, and she shouldn't be out late on Christmas night. She should stay at home, with her family, being the dutiful daughter she always was.

Then again, it wasn't as if her parents would actually notice that she was gone. A cursory glance around the room confirmed this suspicion: both her father and mother were in deep conversation with business contacts, and she knew them well enough to know that when they were in work mode, they were unlikely to notice her presence or absence.

Plus, she'd never been to a muggle party before. She'd read about them in books, and seen them on TV, but she'd never actually snuck out of the house and gone to one. Who knew when an opportunity like this would come up again? It was worth going, she thought, as an educational experience if anything.

"Where is it?" she asked tentatively.

"I've got the address on my phone." Delphine pulled out a smart phone from her clutch, and tapped lightly at the screen until she found what she was looking for. "It's just by Earl's Court. We can take a cab – or steal my parent's chauffeur."

 _Earl's Court._ That was right by where Leo lived. She paused for a second before turning to Delphine and saying, "You wouldn't mind if I invited a friend, would you?"

The other girl broke out into a wide grin. "Does that mean you're coming?"

Ella hesitated, then relented. "Potentially."

"Then of course not. The more the merrier."

"Great," Ella said, smiling back in an attempt to hide her uneasiness. "Let me just grab my coat."

By virtue of who she was - a witch, the daughter of a Squib, a teenage girl attending a magical boarding school in the middle of nowhere – Ella Anderson had been in some pretty strange situations in her life. But none, she thought, were as strange as this.

Teenage parties, it turned out, were oddly like the ones she'd read about. The music was so loud that the room seemed to throb in time with the beat; people milled around, alcoholic drinks in hand, shouting to be heard and dancing enthusiastically. Delphine fit right in, chatting with people she knew, and happily helping herself to cans of beer. Ella, on the other hand, was decidedly more uncomfortable. She'd never really been a 'party person'. Parties were not infrequent at Hogwarts: they were often hosted by sixth and seventh years, or held after a successful Quidditch match, and held in house Common Rooms. And yet she avoided them if she could. If she'd been invited, she briefly showed her face, and then left, much preferring to stay in bed with a book.

She would have probably left if it hadn't been for Leo. He was decidedly more enthusiastic about the whole situation although, thankfully, had determined that muggle beer was disgusting in comparison to butterbeer, and was sticking to non-alcoholic drinks. She had been a little nervous about whether he'd fit in, or whether he'd want to come in the first place, considering that he was a pureblood, but he'd made more progress than her, making easy conversation with the other attendees. Ella commented on this when they had a moment to themselves and he laughed.

"I take muggle studies," he reminded her.

Still, after an hour, even he'd had enough. He came out to join her in the front garden, where she was milling about by herself, near a couple of boys who were playing some sort of strange drinking game that seemed to involve downing a number of drinks – whatever it was, Ella thought it looked rather dangerous. They had given her a few odd looks, but left her alone; she wandered around, holding a can of Pepsi in one hand, her other hand in her pocket. She'd forgotten to clear out her pockets before coming, and had been surprised at first when her fingers had grazed the smooth wood of her wand. Although terrified of losing it, she was somewhat glad she'd brought it along. It served as a gentle reminder of Hogwarts.

"It's exhausting," Leo said when he reached her. "Pretending to be someone I'm not. I thought I knew _some_ things about muggles, but what in Merlin's name is an iPod?"

Ella laughed. It was funny, she thought, how Leo literally lived three tube stops away from her and yet his world was so different. She straddled the muggle and the wizarding worlds; she was privileged, she supposed, in that she belonged to, and had intimate knowledge of both. When she'd first arrived at Hogwarts, she'd always been taken by surprise at how little Teddy knew of muggles, and how little Alfie knew of wizards. Since then, she'd gotten used to it – muggles and wizards were, after all, nearly entirely separate in the lives that they led.

"Are you ready to leave?" Leo asked.

"I've been ready to leave since we got here," she replied.

"Oh." His face fell slightly. "You should have said something. We could've gone somewhere else."

"It's fine," she reassured him. "You were having a good time."

"But you weren't."

"It's _alright_ ," she said, a little more sharply than she intended. If Leo noticed her tone, he didn't say anything.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked. "I can give you my scarf."

She shook her head. "No, it's fine. This coat is really warm."

"Okay then." He paused. "Do you want to say goodbye to Delphine?"

Ella shrugged. "No, it's fine. She'll just try to convince me to stay."

"You really didn't have a good time, did you?"

"Parties aren't really my scene."

Leo opened the gate for her, and she stepped out onto the paved street. She immediately felt freer, despite only having moved a few metres. The crisp winter air tickled her nose as she breathed in deeply. The street was lined with beautiful houses, fairy lights hanging from windows and trees. No one was outside; everyone was indoors, with their families, enjoying the last few hours of the twenty-fifth of December.

 _This_ , she thought, this peace, this calm, this simple beauty – this was what Christmas was meant to be like.

"Help!"

A male voice, panicked and desperate, cut through the crisp air, causing Ella to spin around. One of the boys who had been standing near her had collapsed onto the ground. She couldn't see him clearly from this distance, but it appeared as if his body was convulsing. His friends were gathered around him, distressed. One, she saw, had whipped out his phone and was talking quickly to the operator on the other end.

Unthinkingly, she ducked behind the nearest hedge, pulling a startled Leo with her. Reaching into her pocket, she extracted her wand. "I'm going out there."

"What?" Leo said, shocked. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't exactly know yet - it's alcohol poisoning, I'm fairly sure of that, and Russell Knobbs showed us how to heal it in third-year before we all went to Hogsmeade for the first time. If I can just get close enough, I can –"

"You can't."

"What do you mean I can't?" She whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. "He could _die_ before the ambulance gets here, Leo, and I…I can save him!"

"Not so loudly!" Leo grabbed her arm with a ferocity that she hadn't seen in him before. "Are you crazy, Ella? What, do you think you can just go out there and wave your wand?"

"Of course—"

"And then what?" he asked, pointedly. "How are you going to explain what you did to everyone who wants to know how a boy on death's door recovered within seconds?"

"The Ministry can send Obliviators!" she argued.

"Firstly, you'll be _expelled from Hogwarts for breaking the Statue of Secrecy_!" he hissed back. "And what if someone whips out those phone things of theirs and videos you saving him? The Ministry aren't that well-versed in muggle technology, they'd easily miss it. Then what?"

"Then I'll…" she trailed off. She hated to be proven wrong, but she'd run out of counter-arguments. _Damn it_. She loosened her grip on her wand, her hand falling limply to her side. As she watched Delphine and her friends gather around the nameless boy, Ella Anderson, for the first time in her life, felt completely helpless. Whenever there had been a crisis before, she'd always intervened. Even if she hadn't managed to do so with a calm head, even if she'd sometimes ended up making the situation worse, she'd always _done_ something. Nothing had prepared her for the terrible nausea in the pit of her stomach that came with inaction, with knowing that she had the power to stop something terrible from happening and yet she was completely and utterly unable to use it. Hot tears sprang to the corners of her eyes, and she turned away angrily, cursing herself.

"Ella," said Leo. He attempted to put an arm around her, which she brushed off. "Ella, it's okay."

"It's really not!" she exclaimed. "What's the point, Leo?"

"What do you mean?" He looked puzzled and this irritated her even further.

"I mean –" She waved her hand, fumbling for words. "I mean this… magic. What's the point of magic if we can't use it to help people?"

"But we _do_ use it to help people," he said, trying to placate her. "The Healers in St. Mungo's save lives. The research Potioneers help them do it. The Aurors are out on the streets every day, giving their lives so that we can stay safe."

"But that's not helping people!" she exclaimed. "Don't you see? We're only helping a very select few – ourselves. We're only helping other witches and wizards!

"Well, would you rather the muggles re-started witch hunts?" His tone of voice, suddenly sharp and snappy, surprised her. "The last time we tried to help them, Ella, it only made things worse. Maybe they don't want our help."

"Maybe they don't – are you hearing yourself right now? What's the point of magic if we're only using it to make our own lives better? What's the point of it if we can't use it to help _everyone_?"

"Are _you_ hearing yourself? Listen, I get that you're upset – you've had a bit to drink, and seeing that guy collapse like that couldn't have been easy. Maybe we should just get you home."

This was the wrong thing to say. She hated it when people attempted to trivialize her views when they disagreed with her. In primary school, the teachers had always implicitly told her that she was wrong, that her age precluded her from having an opinion worth listening to. Her parents occasionally laughed when she expressed her thoughts, telling her that she would 'understand when she was older', and it always just made her more determined to prove that she was correct, that she didn't need to wait to grow up because she knew what she was talking about in the here and the now.

Never before had she experienced this sort of infantilizing behaviour from a friend, let alone from someone she was in a relationship in. It infuriated her.

"I am perfectly fine," she said coldly, turning away from Leo. "I'll get a taxi home."

"I'll come with you."

"No," she said, trying to be firm, but not angry.

"Ella, it's not safe—"

"I can protect myself, thank you very much. I'll have you know that I did the best in the year in the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical exam, whereas _you_ only came tenth. I doubt you'd be much help."

Though she wasn't looking at him, she could see the hurt spread across his face as her words sunk in. "Fine," she heard him mutter under his breath. "Fine."

He turned and walked away from her. She didn't turn to watch him go, but rather fixated on a spot on the wall in front of her, listening as his footsteps faded into the night air.

She felt no remorse. She knew that she was right.

 _What's the point of magic if it doesn't help everyone?_

.oOo.  
 _VI: Tabitha (II)_

Cases were funny things.

They were messy, complex, networks of information, strewn together haphazardly. They were difficult to pick apart, difficult to grasp in their entirety. And yet once you managed to find the key link in the chain, that one piece of information that made everything make sense, things would slowly, but certainly fall into place.

At 6PM on the 25th of December, 2013, Tabitha James sat at her desk in the Auror department feeling thoroughly satisfied with herself. She'd spent the entire day trawling through files and records, conducting research on the basis of the lead she'd found when digging into Ella Anderson's background, and the case finally, _finally_ seemed to be making sense.

She'd been on the right track all along, but she'd needed Ella Anderson to connect the dots.

Her eyes lingered on a notice tacked up on the small pinboard near her desk.

 _Christmas Party. 6PM onwards, Harry Potter's residence. All invited._

The corner of her lips curved up in a smug, satisfied smile.

It was time to put an end to this. And she had the perfect plan.

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

 **A/N:** the brainy souls among you (so all of you) will note that this chapter is incomplete (ie. your promised dose of Victoire, Teddy, and the kids has not been delivered). That's because I've had to split it into two. When you reach the halfway point of your plan for a chapter and realise that you've already written over ten thousand words, it's probably a good point to break it up.

The next chapter is called 'Christmas Night' and will finish the story of the 25th of December, 2013, by changing the setting - you'll get a glimpse into one of Harry Potter's famous Christmas parties from the perspectives of Victoire, Teddy, and Tabitha James.

Thank you once again for sticking with this story! I'm on holiday as of next week, so hopefully will be able to churn out updates after then.

Oh, and for my reference - when you guys read chapters, do you prefer to read them all in one go, or to come back to them?


	14. Chapter 14: Christmas Night

**Chapter Fourteen: Christmas Night**

 **Recap:** Professor Smith encourages Daisy to make up with her friends after she is ostracised for her role in the Bella/Macmillan scandal (and for just generally being a pretty mean person). Macmillan is avoiding Bella. Dudley's son is kidnapped. Robards tells Tabitha that he intends to retire, and if she can figure out who is behind the recent unrest, she will succeed him as the Head of the Auror Office. Tabitha discovers a name in Ella's files that she recognises, and which helps her formulate a plan that she intends to put into action at Harry Potter's Christmas party.

 _I: Victoire_

Victoire Weasley loved Christmas.

Of course, she knew it was just another day in the cycle of three hundred and sixty five that made up a year. She knew that it was over-hyped and over-commercialised, designed to sell wizards more products than they needed. And yet for her, the food, the parties, and the presents came together to create something magical. It was a day when life was (or at least felt) perfect, and she loved everything about it. But most of all, she loved the people.

She was a part of a large family, and Christmas was really the only time that everyone was together. She loved seeing her aunts, uncles, and cousins.

At home, she sometimes found herself suffocating. It was true that at five, the Weasley-Delacour household wasn't exactly tiny, but Victoire's relationship with her mother was often strained, for she felt that her mother was overprotective and restrictive. And although she got on well with her youngest sibling, little Louis, Victoire's relationship with Dominique was … trying, to say the least, which accounted for why they spent little time together at school. Still, at Christmastime,t he troubles that they had with one another seemed almost inconsequential, mitigated as they were by the presence of so many others.

The day had started several hours earlier when the Weasley-Delacour family had arrived at Grandmother Molly's house for their annual get-together. They had had lunch and exchanged presents before moving onto Uncle Harry's house where Victoire, Teddy and her cousins had helped him to decorate in preparation for his famous Christmas party.

Uncle Harry had been throwing Christmas parties since well before Victoire could remember. They had started off as small family gatherings, extensions of the earlier lunch, and had since grown as members of the Weasley family began to invite their friends, relatives and colleagues. It had since become a well-established event in the social calendar of those who travelled in the same circles as her uncle – Aurors (who Victoire thought had the best stories), her parents' friends from school, Ministry officials she'd heard of in the newspaper. It was always a little odd to see her professors there though – many had gone to school with Uncle Harry and were therefore invited, as were the current Head students, as a sort of reward for their services to the school.

Still, meeting and talking to people constantly was exhausting and she often found herself forgetting who she had already spoken to or met before. Thankfully, Teddy had similar difficulties.

"I'm so sick of everyone telling me how grown up I look," he had muttered to her as they ascended the stairs in search of a quieter place. "I don't even remember meeting them."

They now sat upstairs in Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's bedroom. The house was three stories high with the bedrooms distributed across the two upper floors – the master and Lily's on the top floor, and James and Albus on the second floor, along with the guest room. Their little cousins were playing in Lily's room and kept popping in every few minutes to say hello, or to demand they joined them in their latest game of pretend. Dominique, who was now twelve, sat in the corner of the room, reading. She was so quiet that it was quite easy for Victoire to pretend she simply wasn't there.

Victoire and Teddy chatted about school and their holidays so far. It was nice, she thought, as Teddy told her about how Ella's parents had stopped her from going out alone, to spend time with Teddy. At Hogwarts, it was never just the two of them – Alfie, Ella, or Riley were inevitably around and though Victoire loved being part of a larger group, she missed just being with Teddy. He'd been her best friend since before she could remember – the one constant in her life, someone she knew would always support her. When she was younger, her mother had threatened to send her to Beauxbatons, a move that Victoire had vehemently protested against. Though she hadn't said it out loud, she had been terrified of not seeing Teddy for months on end and had no idea how she would have coped. Even now, she was so accustomed to seeing him every day that she often felt an odd sense of loneliness during the holidays, as if something was missing from her life.

Perhaps that was part of the reason she loved Christmas. It was a day that she got to spend entirely with her best friend.

It was with some exasperation that she noted Teddy was now attempting to get Dominique to join in the conversation – a useless and unnecessary mission in her opinion.

"Hey, that's really pretty, Dom," he said, pointing at a string of blue jewels around the younger girl's thin wrist.

Dominique glanced from her book to the bracelet and back again. "Thanks."

"Where did you get it?" Teddy pressed.

No response. Victoire couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Riley got it for her," she answered.

"Really?" Teddy looked taken aback and Victoire felt a stab of consternation. She knew deep down that Teddy wasn't Riley's biggest fan, but it was something she preferred to gloss over. "That's nice of her."

"She got me one too," she said, trying not to sound defensive. "Mine's red."

"Because you're a Gryffindor?"

"I imagine so. What did she get you?"

"She actually sent me a card." _Was there a touch of incredulity in his voice?_ Teddy got up from the bed and walked over to where he had kept his bag in the corner. He rifled through it and extracted a bundle of colourful, glittery Christmas card.

He was about to rejoin Victoire when a shrill shriek came from the other room. Victoire started and swivelled around just in time to see a small girl with hair the colour of poppies run through the doorway, tears streaming down her pale, flushed cheeks. Dominique looked up from her book, shook her head disapprovingly, and began to read again.

"Teddy," the little girl sobbed, "you have to help, Teddy! Teddy! Teddy!"

Teddy, who had almost dropped his bundle of cards in shock, put them down on the bed. He knelt down in front of the little girl, regarding her with a tender expression. "What is it, Lily?" he asked kindly.

"Albus and James stole my dolly again," Lily Luna Potter sniffed. "And I can't find her, and they won't tell me where they've put her even though I asked nicely." Her bottom lip quivered dangerously, as if she was about to burst into tears again.

Teddy exchanged an exasperated look with Victoire. At nine, James Potter was at the age where he seemed to think bullying his little sister was great fun, and, at eight, Albus was at the age where he worshipped the ground his older brother stood on. Both had been repeatedly told off through the day for bothering Lily and yet they still persisted. Victoire supposed she couldn't blame them. After all, when she was their age, she had often played elaborate pranks on Dominique and Louis – often with Teddy's aid.

"Come on," Teddy said, standing up and extending his palm out to the little girl, who grasped it firmly, her tiny fingers intertwining with his. "Let's go find your dolly." To Victoire, he said, "I'll be back. You can look for Riley's card if you like."

Victoire nodded. Once he had left the room, she began to rifle through the stack of cards, ignoring Dominique's disapproving expression. She found her own – yellow, with a badger in a Christmas hat printed on the front. The card beneath it was blue, emblazoned with a cartoon snowman. Not exactly kind of thing Riley, a stickler for tradition, would send – her card to Victoire simply bore an image of a Christmas tree. Nevertheless, Victoire flipped it open, just to make sure (or so she told herself).

She had to read the name inside twice to ensure her eyes weren't deceiving her.

After all of the drama that had occurred last term, what was _Daisy Shipkins_ doing writing to Teddy?

Teddy and Daisy Shipkins weren't friends and had never _been_ friends, at least as far as Victoire was aware (and when it came to Teddy, she knew she was aware of pretty much everything, by virtue of their best friend-ship). There was absolutely no reason for Daisy to write to Teddy. She sincerely doubted that _he_ had written to _her_. Teddy wasn't even _friendly_ towards Daisy.

Okay, perhaps that was a bit of a lie. Teddy was friendly towards everyone, but that was because he was Teddy. He didn't go out of his way to be nice to Daisy, not in the same way he did for, say, Matilda Goshawk. He didn't hang around with her, nor did he count her as one of his close friends. _So what was she doing writing to him?_

It didn't occur to her that she was overreacting. She skimmed the message inside the card, noting (with slight irritation) that it was rather long for a Christmas card.

 _Dear Teddy,_

 _Merry Christmas!_

 _I bet you're wondering why I'm writing to you._

You bet I am, thought Victoire.

 _Last term wasn't exactly great for me and you, and our friendship. I've had some time to think, and I've realised that I haven't really been the nicest person over the last few months. So I suppose I can't really blame you and all the others for not wanting to be friends with me anymore. After all, who wants to be friends with someone unkind, right?_

 _But Christmas is the season for forgiveness, and that's why I'm writing to you - to apologise. I'm really very sorry, Teddy, for anything I may have said or done that hurt you. I'm sending cards to everyone who I think I may have upset. I hope you can forgive me._

 _Love,_

 _Daisy._

"Hm," Victoire said out loud, closing the card.

"Something interesting?" asked Dominique, slyly.

"You could say so."

The Ravenclaw surveyed her, eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't read other people's Christmas cards," she said prissily.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Teddy doesn't mind."

"That's what you think."

"He said he didn't mind you reading Riley's card. That," she jerked her chin to the card in Victoire's hands, "doesn't look like it's from Riley."

"How would you know?"

"Riley doesn't send cards like that. Hers are more plain." _Damn it, why was her sister a Ravenclaw?_ "So who's that one from then? His girlfriend?"

"Teddy doesn't have a girlfriend!" Victoire snapped.

Dominique shrugged. "Whatever."

It was all Victoire could do not to get up from the bed and shake the insolence out of Dominique. Why was her little sister so _difficult_?

And, more importantly, said a little voice in her head that she tried her best to ignore, what did she know?

Thankfully, Teddy chose to return at that precise moment. "It was under the bed," he declared triumphantly.

"What?"

"Lily's doll." He climbed up onto the duvet next to Victoire, who was still clutching Daisy's card. His gaze fell upon it and his enthusiasm dissipated slightly. "Oh. That. Definitely wasn't expecting it."

"I can imagine."

"Did you read it?"

"I told her she shouldn't have," Dominique piped up.

" _Dominique_!" Victoire exclaimed, exasperated.

Teddy laughed, and Victoire felt something inside her unclench. "No, it's fine. It's weird, isn't it? Daisy Shipkins, of all people, apologising. Who would have thought?"

"Not me," Victoire replied, chewing on her bottom lip.

Teddy continued to talk, but she was only half-listening. She had become aware of a strange sensation in her stomach – not quite nervous butterflies, not quite anger – accompanied by unbidden thoughts and questions swirling in her mind. Why _had_ Daisy written to Teddy? It wasn't as if any of her actions last term had directly affected Teddy. She hadn't spread rumours about him, said nasty things, or stolen his Prefect badge. It didn't make any sense.

She wanted to ask Teddy what he thought of Daisy, whether he was prepared to forgive her like she asked, whether he considered Daisy a friend, but found that she didn't quite know how. She, who could talk to Teddy about anything, who always asked the questions everyone else was too afraid to ask, was suddenly paralysed, at a loss for words.

Daisy Shipkins was pretty. Her hair was a stunning shade of red; unusual, not like Victoire's common blonde curls. Her freckles actually suited her. Her lips were perfectly shaped. She applied make-up perfectly, unlike Victoire, who hardly knew what to do with the different colours and pencils.

 _Love, Daisy_.

She didn't understand.

"Victoire?"

"Huh?" Her sea-green eyes found Teddy's warm, brown ones, and the odd sensation in her stomach intensified.

"Are you okay? You look a little...strange."

"I'm fine," she said quickly, breaking eye contact and brushing a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Too much Butterbeer, I think. I'm feeling a bit jittery."

"You've probably been sitting still too long," he said jokingly. "I mean look at us – sitting here and chatting like adults. Let's go join the party. The Goshawk twins are supposed to be coming. We might be able to find them, if you'd like?"

Daisy Shipkins isn't coming, is she?" Victoire blurted before she could stop herself.

Teddy looked at her curiously, eyebrows furrowed. "Daisy Shipkins? No of course not. Why would you think that?"

The blonde laughed nervously. "No reason." The jittery feeling in her stomach calmed significantly. "Let's go."

"Smooth," Dominique whispered sardonically under her breath as the two eldest children left the room. "Very smooth."

.oOo.

 _II: Bella_

Professor Horace Slughorn had been the first to invite the Hogwarts Head Students to Harry Potter's annual Christmas party. He, the expert networker, recognized the party for what it was and what it was to become, and established a tradition whereby the Heads were guaranteed invitations to the event. Though Harry himself had never expected (nor, truth be told, wanted) his party to grow into a networking opportunity, he did regardless enjoy meeting the Head students.

Meeting Harry was certainly the highlight of the evening for Bella Watson who, two hours into the party, found herself quite alone by the bar. Networking was exhausting. She was excellent at it, for she had a charming smile, a firm handshake, and an uncanny knack for asking all the right questions at the right times. But such skill took effort. She needed a drink.

As she poured herself a glass of champagne, she glanced around the room. Everyone was engaged in happy conversation, including Alfred Cattermole, the Hogwarts head boy whom she had once dated. He, she noted grimly, had brought his new girlfriend – a tall, slim brunette with little personality. Bella had endeavored to be especially nice to her, but she expected that Alfred and his girlfriend wanted some time alone, as, truth be told, did she.

She took a sip from her glass. The champagne was crisp and light, not heavy and burning like firewhiskey or overly sweet like butterbeer. She took another sip, and then another. Before long, the glass was empty.

She poured herself another one.

Glass in hand, she turned around to seek out someone to talk to. _Let's see_ , she thought to herself, ambling casually into the throng of people milling about, _there's Peter Rose, Professor Flitwick, Hermione Granger… who to pick?_

None of them.

Because fate works in odd ways sometimes.

A shoulder clad in thick black robes hit into hers, making her yelp in pain and almost drop her flute.

"Watch where you're go –" she began to exclaim angrily before trailing off when she saw who the shoulder belonged to.

"We must stop meeting like this, Miss Watson," said Professor Macmillan. He stood somewhat awkwardly: he held a glass in one hand, his other hand limp by his side as if he didn't know what to do with it. . He didn't meet her eyes, and stood at a slight angle tilted away from her. Still, the fact that he had willingly _spoken_ to her surprised her. After their meeting on the train, Bella was certain that Macmillan would be making a conscious effort to avoid her through the rest of the year.

She couldn't help but blush slightly, embarrassed that out of all the people she could've collided with in the party, it had to be the one she had history with. If you could call it that. "I agree, Professor."

A few moments of silence passed. Bella wanted to say something, to broach the awkward energy between them, but she simply didn't know what to do. She felt almost like she was eleven years old again, called into Professor Macmillan's office for not doing her homework.

" _You have a lot of potential, Miss Watson. I would hate to see you squander it."_

" _Squander, sir?"_

" _Waste."_

" _Oh."_

The next day, she had come in with all of her homework done. She had answered every question. In her final exams, she came top of the year.

 _Sometimes all it took was one person._

"I suppose I should go," Macmillan said at last, breaking the silence. "Have a nice night."

"No!" Bella exclaimed, shocking herself. Macmillan looked at her, startled. "What I mean to say is," she began, stuttering slightly as she tried to think of some sort of explanation, "we need to talk. I mean, we should talk. I mean," she took a deep breath," talking would probably be good."

The professor glanced around the room warily and sighed. "I'm listening."

Bella floundered. She had imagined this encounter so many times since the scandal had blown up and she'd run out of Defense Against the Dark Arts. She'd come up with a million speeches, a million ways of explaining why Laura Shipkins did what she did, a million ways of apologising to Professor Macmillan (even though she didn't truly believe what had happened was ultimately her fault… but she supposed at this stage, it didn't matter). And yet now, standing across for him, she couldn't think of a single word to say.

A few more moments of silence passed, before Macmillan sighed again. "Listen, Miss Watson, perhaps I should go before… " he trailed off, but Bella understood what he was implying. He didn't want to make the situation more awkward. He didn't want people to talk any more than they already had. Quite frankly, neither did she, but at the same time, she felt as if she had to _do_ something.

"No," Bella said quickly. "No, I… I just wanted to say…"

 _Come on, Bella._

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "I should have seen this coming. Laura Shipkins has had it out for me since first year, really, and me getting Head Girl over her was the last straw. I should've known that something like this would happen, I should've talked to her before everything blew up and settled it. I mean, I knew what she was saying about me, about us, and I should have _done_ something instead of just sitting there and hoping it would all blow over. I knew the implications of it. So I'm sorry, Professor. I'm so, so terribly sorry. You're one of the best teachers I've ever had. You were the first person who believed in me, who pushed me to do my best, to challenge everyone's expectations of me. You've always supported me, and I don't want this terrible, silly thing to come between us."

As she finished, she exhaled deeply. It felt good to finally air everything she'd been thinking about since that fateful day, and yet she couldn't predict how Macmillan was going to react. She noticed with a start that he wasn't looking at her. What if it hadn't been enough? What if he blamed her for what had happened and always would?

 _Then what?_

It was much to her relief when he finally said, "That was quite some speech."

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"I don't blame you," he said, softly. She started, for it was almost as if he had read her mind. "None of what happened was your fault. But you must understand, Miss Watson, that things can no longer go back to the way they were. People have short memories, and should you and I show any … intimacy beyond what is expected of a student and teacher, they will talk. And that is risky for both of us."

A lump formed in her throat.

"Miss Watson?"

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I… understand."

"Have a lovely Christmas."

She watched as he turned away from her and was swallowed by the crowd. A strange sensation of emptiness filled her stomach. She'd never loved Macmillan, but she had come to rely on him. He was the one person in Hogwarts she felt she could trust with anything. It was as if a rock she was leaning on for support had given way, sending her tumbling over the edge of a cliff, helpless to stop her fall.

Laura Shipkins had ruined everything.

She hated to think that Laura, a petty, immature brat, could have that much control over her life. Bella had never stoked the flames of the conflict between them. If anything, she'd attempted to extinguish it, but Laura had continued to hold on. Bella had always felt sorry for the other girl, for it was clear she was insecure and threatened.

Now, for the first time, she felt angry.

.oOo.

 _III: Teddy_

In Teddy's opinion, Uncle Harry's Christmas party was a congregation of the strangest collection of people you could ever meet.

He was old enough to remember when the annual event had been purely a family occasion: quiet, simple and peaceful. Now the entire ground floor and back garden had been transformed into a hubbub of activity, filled with Aurors, Ministry officials, Hogwarts professors, Healers – all people who his uncle Harry knew and was generally well-acquainted with. It was like a microcosm of the wizarding world.

He enjoyed the parties, for it was nice to meet his uncle's friends. But most of all, it was nice to meet people who had known his parents. So often, Teddy had engaged in conversations with wizards and witches who had in some way been touched by his mother or father – those who his father had taught, those who his mother had saved. And they were always filled with the best stories about the things his parents had done, or the kinds of people they had been.

He had just finished speaking to an old colleague of his mother's when he was approached by Michael Goshawk. The Goshawks were always invited to the Christmas party. Their mother, Jennifer, had worked in the Auror office prior to being transferred into the department of International Wizarding Relations.

"Teddy!" the Slytherin exclaimed, clapping him sharply on the shoulder. "Good Christmas?"

"Yes, thanks, Michael." Teddy grinned. "Where's Mat?"

Michael shrugged. "Somewhere."

A moment of silence passed. Teddy wondered if he had truly expected a more helpful answer.

"So, are you enjoying the holidays?"

"I suppose," Michael sniffed. "It's been nice to be home, although Mum's been very busy."

He paused, watching Teddy carefully. Teddy knew that this was his cue to act interested, giving Michael a chance to boast, so said, "Oh, really? What's she been doing? You'd think she'd get a holiday."

Michael smiled smugly. "Yes, well, keeping up international relations is a very important job. She can't take a break. She's been working very closely with her colleagues in the Spanish Ministry. Apparently they've been having issues similar to ours - kids going missing, that sort of thing. They caught the people behind it though - Mum helped, of course."

"Oh," Teddy said, his interest actually piqued now. "And were those people linked to what's been happening here."

Michael shook his head. "Nah. They'd never been to England, and they didn't seem to know anyone here. Plus, they were kidnapping all sorts – Purebloods, half-bloods."

"Oh." A muscle in his stomach he did not realise he was holding taut unclenched.

"It's unfortunate," Michael murmured. "I was kind of hoping they would find something out about the kids here. It's just not right, is it, for people not that much younger than us to go missing? I often find myself wondering what's happened to them. You know, whether they're safe, whether they're even alive."

Teddy had difficulty hiding his surprise. Although he and Michael spoke frequently, they hadn't really talked about the missing children - surprising, considering it was all some at Hogwarts could talk about. He had just assumed that it wasn't something Michael was concerned about. He was a Pureblood, after all, with few links to muggleborns, and he never seemed to show much emotion. Ella had often commented on how she didn't like Michael for that very reason.

"He's just so...blank," she had told Teddy once, when the latter had gotten angry at her for acting cold towards the Slytherin. "I never know where I stand with him, because he never seems to show any sort of reaction. It's awfully unsettling."

Although he'd fought her vehemently on it at the time, he couldn't help but agree with her somewhat. He sometimes found himself unsure of what his relationship with Michael really was. He called it friendship, but it wasn't the kind of friendship that he had with Ella, Alfie, Victoire or even Matilda Goshawk. He never found it truly easy to talk to Michael; he was always having to think carefully about what he was saying, and he did often find the other boy difficult to interpret.

"I wonder when it'll all end" Teddy said, taking the opportunity to continue the conversation. "It's sad – and awfully frightening."

"Hm," Michael said. There was a brief silence, and Teddy watched his face closely. His eyes, a deep green, remained startlingly blank. Despite what he had said, Michael didn't seem in the least bit affected.

It was, like Ella had said, awfully unsettling.

The awkwardness quickly evaporated when Michael broke out into a smile and said, "So, I heard Leonardo Torricelli and your friend Anderson are going out. When did _that_ start?"

"That's old news, Goshawk!"

"Yes, but you can give me the inside scoop."

Teddy laughed. This, he supposed, was why, five years after they had first met, he was still friends with Michael. Sometimes they struggled to find common ground, but sometimes, things were simple.

He had only just begun telling Michael about how Ella and Leonardo had gotten together, when Victoire ran up to him.

There are several benefits to having known someone for fourteen years. One is that you have several embarrassing anecdotes in your arsenal that you can deploy as you wish. The other (and perhaps the more important) is that you can always, always tell when something is wrong.

Teddy only had to glance at Victoire to know that something wasn't right. Michael, on the other hand, was oblivious, and greeted her as normal.

Victoire's lips were upturned, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Though she spoke calmly to Michael, who was asking about her Christmas holidays, her cheeks lacked their usual colour, and her hands, which brushed lightly against Teddy's, were clammy. She emanated a palpable nervous energy, which made Teddy's heart quicken.

"I'm so sorry, Michael," she said at last, "but I'm afraid I just came over to get Teddy. My dad wants to see him - Teddy's visiting us next week, I think he wants to work out some of the details."

This was a blatant lie. Teddy was not visiting Shell Cottage next week, nor anytime in the near future. Still, he smiled at Michael and said, "It was lovely seeing you. Merry Christmas."

He turned away, following Victoire who skillfully weaved in and out of the crowds. It was only when they were in a quiet spot, out of earshot of any of the guests, that he turned to her and asked, "What's going on?"

Her smile had since left her face and she looked at him, worry in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I overheard something, something strange."

Teddy felt nausea growing in his stomach - a mix of trepidation, uneasiness and fear. _Not here_ , he thought. _Not now_.

He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"Something's not right."

.oOo.

 _IV: Victoire (II)  
_

 _(ten minutes earlier)_

Nobody wanted to talk to Victoire Weasley, and she didn't want to talk to anyone either.

The problem, she thought as she absent-mindedly leaned on the bar, was that at these sorts of parties, adults tended to have a little too much to drink. And when adults had a little too much to drink, they tended to lose all interest in their responsibilities, or anything that remotely reminded them of their responsibilities. Like children

There was no one from her year attending the party. Her siblings and cousins were upstairs, and Teddy was deep in conversation with Michael Goshawk. She had no desire to join them; she wished that she and Teddy had never come downstairs. They had been perfectly fine on their own – they didn't have any need for Michael Goshawk. Although she'd never exactly told Teddy that she didn't like Michael, she thought that anyone who could spend as much time with Terence Gates as he did wasn't worth _her_ time. And Riley Carrow felt much the same.

Victoire felt a little pang in her heart. She missed Riley. It was odd not seeing her for so long, when they normally spent everyday together. Riley had never come to visit her over the holidays, and she'd never been to visit Riley - she'd never queried it, for it had never come up, even though they regularly kept in touch. She wished that Riley was here now.

Without realizing it, she had drifted past the bar towards a secluded corner just behind the stairs. She knew it well, for it had been one of her favourite hiding places as a child. It was only when she heard an unfamiliar voice that she realised where she had ended up.

"This is _not_ the place, James!"

Something told her that she wasn't supposed to be there, and that the 'James' being referred to was not her cousin. Fortunately, she knew just how to conceal herself. Ducking around a corner, she hid herself behind a well-placed bookshelf, and, gingerly placing her fingertips on the wall, leaned forward ever so slightly so that she could just about see what was going on.

She couldn't quite figure out what she was seeing though. Two people were standing close together and talking in hushed voices. She instantly recognized Tabitha James – it was hard not to, for the young woman was rather tall, striking, and, most importantly, had an air of determination around her that was impossible to miss. The man she was talking to, on the other hand, was more of an enigma. Squinting, she could make out messy dark hair, a square face, stubble, and broad shoulders.

 _I've seen you before,_ she thought.

"This _is_ the place, sir," Tabitha hissed back.

 _Ah._ The dots connected in Victoire's brain. _Sir._ This must be the Head Auror. Her uncle Harry's boss. She knew his name, but it eluded her.

"We are at a party, James."

"And I have a lead."

Victoire felt a jolt run through her. They couldn't possibly be talking about the kidnappings, could they? Her breathing quickened slightly, and she pressed herself further against the wall, desperately hoping that she had hidden herself well enough.

There was a rustling sound. Tabitha extracted a piece of parchment from her bag. Victoire was too far to see what was written on it, but from the way Tabitha thrust it in front of the man's face, she knew that it must be important. If only she could read it for herself, but it was too risky to get any closer. The last thing she needed was for the aurors to tell her parents that she'd been eavesdropping. Her mother would never let it go.

"Can you not wait until - " the Head Auror began, but Tabitha interrupted him.

"I was reading through some old files and I found this. You recognize this name, don't you?"

"James -"

"And I looked further, and there are all _sorts_ of connections there, with M-"

" _James_."

"- everyone we've been suspecting. Robards, this is it. This is our first real lead. The Ravenclaw girl, Ella Anderson, I knew there was something about her. She led us straight to them – not intentionally of course, I doubt she even knows about this, but…"

"We'll talk about this later, James," the man snapped, his tone firm. "This is not the place."

There was a moment of silence. Victoire watched, her fingers leaving sweat stains against the cream wall paint. Tabitha was looking at the Head Auror with the determination, fierceness and ferocity of a wild cat about to attack its' prey. Victoire felt a tremble run through her.

"Fine," Tabitha said at last. She stuffed the piece of paper in her bag. "We'll talk about it later."

As the two Aurors parted ways, Victoire stayed hidden, trying to slow her breathing. She barely understood what she had just heard, but she felt cold all over. They had a lead. That was good. She wanted them to have a lead, she wanted them to find the bad guys and shove them in Azkaban.

But what did Ella Anderson have to do with it all?

Ella was primarily Teddy's friend, yes, but Victoire cared about her too. Ella had been a constant source of comfort to her, a bit like the older sister Victoire had never had. How could she possibly be mixed up in all of this, and how could she have led the Aurors straight to an important discovery? And most of all, how could she not know about it?

She didn't understand it one bit. All she knew was that suddenly, everything felt real in a way it hadn't felt since Leslie Stiles had disappeared. It was all very well to read about these things in the newspaper, but it was another thing entirely to see them happen with your own eyes to people who you loved. She wasn't friends with Leslie, but she had always seen her in the Gryffindor Common Room, laughing, smiling. She was friends with Ella, and she didn't want to believe that Ella could somehow be wrapped up in this mess.

 _Stop jumping to conclusions_ , she told herself.

She might not know how to comprehend this, but she knew one thing: Teddy needed to know.

.oOo.

 _(the present)_

"I overheard something, something strange. Something's not right."

She could tell she had made Teddy uneasy. He stood before her, his eyes furrowed and his turquoise hair lightening slightly, as it always did when he was uncomfortable or worried. Still, she pressed on, relating the conversation she had overheard between Tabitha and the Head Auror, sparing him no details.

When she had finished, he looked at her in silence.

"Well?" She said, trying desperately (but failing) to hide the tremor in her voice. "What do we do?"

Teddy took a deep breath in. "I don't know."

No, that couldn't be true. "You always know."

He folded his arms, his forehead lined with worry. She might not be able to read minds, but she knew what he was thinking. He was worried about Ella, about how she might be involved.

"Ella wouldn't tell Tabitha anything," he said at last.

"What do you mean?"

"Ella doesn't trust herself. She had this theory a while back, about all the attacks being linked to Hogwarts -"

Victoire felt a flash of jealousy run through her - why hadn't Teddy told her about this before? Still, she suppressed it. This wasn't the time.

" - and I thought it was worth something, but she refused to tell Tabitha until she had proof. She didn't want to seem like a fool."

"Is it possible she told Tabitha?"

Teddy paused. " _I_ did."

Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head slightly. "You what?"

"I wrote an anonymous letter telling her about Ella's theory. It was ages ago though, so it doesn't make sense. It can't have been what led her to this lead, because she wouldn't know to credit Ella for it."

"And you're _sure_ Ella wouldn't have told Tabitha anything?"

Teddy shook his head. "I'm sure. This was the only theory Ella had. She would've told us before she told Tabitha. She tells us everything."

Once again, Victoire felt jealousy swirl in her stomach. She knew that 'us' didn't refer to her - it referred to Teddy, Alfie, and Ella. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt like this. The three had been friends since they all started at Hogwarts, and Victoire had never felt this excluded before. Perhaps it was because she used to feel as if she still had a special bond with Teddy, one that involved telling each other everything. She'd never kept secrets from him, and yet it seemed that he'd been keeping things from her.

It was almost as if he had read her mind, for he tilted his head to the side slightly and gave her a look that was half-beseeching, half-reprimanding. "It wasn't my secret to tell."

Victoire feigned innocence. "What secret?"

"Theory. Whatever you want to call it."

"Whatever." She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger absentmindedly. "What do we do now?"

Teddy chewed on his lip, deep in thought. She watched him, expectantly.

"Ella's our friend," he said at last. "Whatever Tabitha's got on her, or from her, we need to know. You said she said that Ella doesn't know about this?"

"Right."

"She should." His voice was strongly defiant.

"I agree, but how are _we_ going to find out?"

"We need to see that piece of paper."

"But it's in Tabitha's bag!" Victoire exclaimed. "There's no way we're going to be able to get it from her."

The edges of Teddy's lips curved up in a smile. Victoire's eyes narrowed - surely this was no time to be joking around?

"Do you remember when you were eight, and your mother took away your favourite stuffed animal because she thought you were getting too old for it?"

 _What in Merlin's name did a stuffed rabbit have to do with this_. "Yes, but I don't quite see-"

"How did we get it back?"

Victoire's eyes lit up and she met Teddy's gaze, sharp and determined. "We waited until she left her bag somewhere to go and get dinner, and then we stole it from it before she could get back."

"Same principle, different person. And, if I'm correct -" Teddy checked his watch. "Dinner is due to be served in exactly fifteen minutes. All we need to do is get closer."

oOo.

 _V: Tabitha_

How _dare_ he brush her off?

Had he not been raging at her just that morning for not having a lead? And now that she'd found one, did he want to hear it? Of course he didn't. He was too busy making merry at a stupid party hosted by someone he didn't even like.

 _Men_.

"Can I get you something to drink, miss?" the bartender asked, snapping her out of her train of thought. She turned and glared with him with such intensity that for a moment, he looked rather like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, cracking a smile, he poured her a shot of firewhiskey on the rocks and put it on the countertop in front of her. He winked at her. "Looks like you need it."

She exhaled through her nose and watched angrily as he scarpered off to the opposite side of the bar. She hated it when other people were able to read her.

 _I'll show Robards_ , she thought, picking up the glass of firewhiskey and bringing it to her lips, allowing the cloying scent to settle over her. The connections were all there. She could hardly believe it had taken her this long to put everything together. But now that she had, she didn't want to wait any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she tipped the glass back and swallowed the liquid in a single gulp, letting it scorch her throat as it went down. She shook her head vehemently, and allowed her eyes to refocus on the crowd with crystal clarity. There was no time to waste. It was time to put her plan into action.

She spotted Munroe, and her lips curved upwards into a catlike smile.

.oOo.

 _VI: Teddy (II)_

Tabitha James had managed to maneuver her way all the way across the room, where she was now in deep conversation with a blonde man that Teddy recognised as Auror Munroe. Weaving his way through the crowds, Victoire following just behind him, he kept a close eye on the witch, and, more importantly, her small leather bag, which she was clutching to her side almost protectively.

He had known the moment Victoire had told him about it that he needed to see that piece of parchment. Nothing made sense – how could Ella have led Tabitha to a lead when Ella didn't have any leads herself? And how could she have done so without knowing? It wasn't as if Ella and Tabitha were friends, or had even met recently. After all, Ella would've mentioned it to him.

So what was going on?

A tall wizard gesturing exuberantly (probably thanks to too many glasses of wine) flung out an arm and Teddy quickly ducked to avoid getting hit. Victoire yelped and ducked too, capturing the wizard's attention.

"My apologies, children," he beamed, not looking very sorry at all.

"That's fine," Teddy mumbled, biting his lip. He tried to move away, desperate to resume his search for Tabitha, when a familiar voice stopped him.

"Teddy! Do come and join us. And Victoire too!"

Suppressing a groan, Teddy turned towards the voice and grinned in what he hoped was a convincing manner. "Hi, Uncle Harry."

His godfather stood amongst several other witches and wizards, most of whom were unfamiliar to Teddy. He did, however, recognize a familiar round face, and raised a hand awkwardly in greeting. "Hi Professor Longbottom."

Victoire mumbled hello as the group shuffled outwards to encompass the two children. Teddy's eyes darted towards where he had last seen Tabitha. The Auror was still in deep conversation with Munroe. Unconsciously, his hand curled into a tight fist, his knuckles white. They _needed_ to get over there. Ella (though she didn't know it yet) was relying on him.

"Are you both having fun?" Professor Longbottom asked kindly, smiling at the two children.

Victoire nodded. "Uh huh."

"A wonderful time," Teddy said, smiling warmly. He met Professor Longbottom's eyes for just long enough to give an impression of sincerity before his gaze quickly flitted away to settle on Tabitha.

"Well, I'm glad we've run into you," said Uncle Harry. "I've been wanting to introduce you, in particular, Teddy, to some friends of mine." He gestured to the individuals standing to his right – a tall, young woman with chocolate-brown hair and a complexion similar to Ella's, and a man with a jovial smile and rather bad teeth. "This is Evelyn Crutter, and her husband, David. They're Obliviators."

"It's lovely to meet you, Teddy," greeted Evelyn, stepping in front of him, and extending a hand. "And you too, Victoire. We've heard so much about you."

Teddy cursed silently under his breath. Evelyn had blocked his view of Tabitha. As he shook her hand and exchanged pleasantries, he tried to subtly crane his head to see if he could catch a glimpse of the dark-haired witch. No luck.

 _Damn it._

He could feel Victoire's gaze upon him and knew that she was waiting for him to make some kind of move, to think of some way to escape from the adults. And yet his mind was completely blank.

"Teddy's in his fifth year," Professor Longbottom commented.

"Ah," Evelyn nodded her head knowingly, "I suppose you'll be starting to think about careers."

Teddy, half listening, half attempting to spot Tabitha to realise she was addressing him. "Huh? Oh, yes." He nodded his head a little too vigorously. Professor Longbottom eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Have you perhaps considered becoming an Obliviator? A fascinating career, really."

"I'm sure." _How was he to get out of this?_ Victoire was tapping her foot lightly against the floor, her eyes darting around the room. Any longer, and the adults were sure to sense something was up, and then they'd keep an eye on them, preventing Teddy from achieving his goal. He reached up and rubbed the nape of his neck, trying desperately to think of a way out.

"If you ever want to come and see what it's like, you're more than welcome to come and visit David and I at the Ministry. We'd be happy to have you."

"What a lovely offer!" Teddy smiled, yet it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thank you."

"Being an Obliviator is really very interesting. Most people don't think it is - they all want to be Aurors and whatnot -"

"Oh, come now, Evelyn, there's nothing wrong with being an Auror," Uncle Harry chimed in.

"Of course not," replied the other, placatingly. "It's just more attractive than being an Obliviator. I suppose it's the danger. Although, I must tell you, Obliviation is a _fine_ art -"

At this point, Teddy tuned out. Licking his lips, he tried, once again, to see if he could spot Tabitha, but Evelyn was still blocking his view.

"- why, I don't think even _Merlin_ himself would be able to Obliviate with the skill some of _our_ team has. You know, we have very stringent training procedures. After all, we are working to uphold the Statute of Secrecy, the very cornerstone of our little society and -"

Victoire interjected, exclaiming, "Oh, would you look at the time! I'm _so_ sorry everybody, but I _promised_ my little sister – have you met Dominique? No? Shame. Well, anyhow, I promised her that I'd get her something to drink, and that was _fifteen whole minutes ago_." She laughed nervously. Teddy watched her in slight awe, pressing his lips together to keep in the laugh that threatened to escape him. "We really should get going. It was _so_ lovely to meet you."

"Of course," Evelyn smiled. "Don't let us keep you." She turned and smiled at Teddy. "My offer still stands, young man."

Teddy had completely forgotten what offer she had made, but thanked her regardless.

"Right. Bye then!" Victoire grabbed Teddy's arm and yanked him away from the group. It was only once they were well out of earshot and enveloped, once again, in by a group of slightly drunk adults that she said, "I thought we'd never get away."

"Quick thinking."

"I didn't think anyone could talk so much about Obliviation."

"Me neither," demurred Teddy, massaging his temples. He looked up towards where he had seen Tabitha last, expecting to find her still in conversation with Munroe, or perhaps talking to someone else nearby.

Nothing.

"Damn it!" He cursed out loud, causing Victoire to step back slightly. She followed his gaze and made a similarly colourful exclamation.

"Where could she have gone?"

"We have to find her," Teddy asserted. "Come on."

Walking as fast as they could while still carefully avoiding any adults who might recognize them and rope them into another wholly unnecessary and frustrating conversation, the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff weaved in and out of crowds, searching. The party was large, and spanned the living and dining rooms, along with the kitchen, yet they managed to cover a lot of space in not a lot of time. However, it was to no avail. Tabitha was nowhere to be seen.

Teddy then remembered that they had yet to check the garden. They ducked outside, but the cold meant that few people had elected to leave the warmth of the house, and none of them, to Teddy's displeasure, was Tabitha. Gritting his teeth, he re-entered the house, Victoire by his side.

"What if she's left?" he fretted, running a hand through his hair.

Victoire shook her head. "No one ever leaves Uncle Harry's Christmas party early."

"She could be an exception."

"I don't think so."

"Well, where is she then?" Teddy snapped. Victoire recoiled slightly, and he felt his stomach sink. "We've checked everywhere," he told her, softening his tone.

"I know," she replied, chewing her bottom lip. "Except…"

"Except?"

"Upstairs!"

Teddy furrowed his brow. "Why would she be upstairs? She's not exactly the type to go and check on the kids."

At this, Victoire snorted. "No, she's not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, is she? But it's the only place we haven't checked. Worth a shot, don't you think?"

Teddy sighed. A million thoughts were racing through his head, but one stood out: if he didn't see what was on that piece of parchment, he might never find out what Tabitha had on Ella. And if he didn't find out, despite surmising that it was of importance, and that Ella herself probably would want to know about it, what sort of a friend was he?

"Let's go," he muttered.

As they deftly made their way towards the staircase, heads down, Teddy became faintly aware of the song playing on the gramophone.

 _Don't say it isn't true, I wouldn't have come if not for you_

He recognized it instantly, and it took all of his willpower not to stop and listen, not to let the music seep beneath his skin.

 _They say it's a magical time of year, but baby, there's no magic if you're not here._

The tune was intoxicating. It wound around him, entangling him in its lilting embrace. Without realizing it, he began to mouth the words.

 _I've travelled a thousand miles_

 _Only to see you smile_

 _Baby, it isn't Christmas without you._

His mother's favourite Christmas song. His grandmother played it every year without fail, be it when they were gathered around the Christmas tree opening presents, or drinking mugs of steaming hot chocolate garnished with his father's favourite Honeydukes marshmallows. Teddy had never spent Christmas with his parents, for they had never even lived to see his first winter, but the song awakened a deep, yet acute ache in him – one that had been present for nearly his entire life and one he knew would never go away.

He had a family, but it was like a puzzle with its central pieces missing. You could just about tack it together, but there'd always be a gap, something breaking the image apart. He survived the war, but he would always feel like a casualty of it.

"Teddy?" Victoire shot him a questioning look and he realized that they were standing at the bottom of the staircase. "You ready?"

The kidnappings. The marks. The fear. His grandmother said that people remembered, that the atrocities of the war wouldn't happen again.

He wasn't so sure.

"Teddy?"

"Let's do this," he said, stepping forward and taking her hand. Quietly, they began to ascend, Victoire leading the way.

Upon reaching the top, the blonde witch started. She quickly clambered down a few steps and, grabbing Teddy's arm, pulled him down so that they were both hidden behind the bannister, balancing on their toes.

"What?" he whispered.

They could just about see the landing. Victoire, perched a step higher than Teddy, had a better view of it, and he craned his head in an attempt to see what had shocked her so. "Wha –" he began to ask again, but stopped when Victoire emphatically lifted a finger to her lips.

He looked at her questioningly. She nodded her head towards the door nearest to them – one that Teddy knew led into a guest bedroom.

Slowly turning his head, his gaze fell upon what the blonde witch was staring at, half-shocked, half-entranced.

His mouth dropped open. "Oh my god."

.oOo.

 _VII: Tabitha (II)_

It hadn't been difficult to get him upstairs.

Seducation wasn't part of Auror training, but Tabitha often thought that it should be. It was one of the most valuable skills in her arsenal. She had used it often throughout her career, and it had yielded excellent results, for it was perhaps the simplest way to get close – _really_ close – to an otherwise unreachable source, to get access to places otherwise closed off. And all it took was an inviting touch, a slow trace of her tongue across her lips, a knowing smile that glinted in her eyes, challenging her target, daring him to come closer. Before he even knew it himself, Munroe was well and truly hers.

Now, she grabbed his collar and pushed him roughly against the wall. He responded by kissing her harder; he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Her free hand reached up into the hair, entwining it between her fingers. A tiny moan escaped him, and she smiled against his lips. It was all working perfectly.

His lips left hers and began to trail down her neck. She tilted her head to the side, allowing him easier access. An involuntary gasp left her mouth as he kissed the nape of her neck, and she let her eyes briefly drift shut before snapping them open again.

 _No_.

There was one problem with seduction. It was easy, in the heat of the moment, to forget why she was doing what she was. To forget what she had discovered earlier that morning. The facts had led her here, not her emotions. She needed proof to tie Munroe inextricably to the series of events that she had constructed in her head on the basis of the facts. And she intended to get it.

She let him lead her inside the guest bedroom. She let him shut the door, and push her up against it. She let him unbutton her silk blouse and unclasp her bra.

"Not here," she whispered in a breathy voice.

"Where then?" he said distractedly.

She let her fingers trace his jawline. "I'm sure you have some ideas."

She was about to get _exactly_ what she wanted.

And yet, along the way, she had made what was perhaps her first error.

.oOo.

 _VIII: Teddy (IV)_

As the door shut behind Tabitha and Munroe, Teddy turned to Victoire, gaping. Her expression mirrored his – shock, disbelief, and beneath it all, a slight curiosity that neither of them would admit to. When discussing events later, they would neglect to mention their difficulty in peeling their eyes away from the couple, and if it did come up, they would ascribe it to pure shock. After all, neither of them had expected to find Tabitha and Munroe in such a compromising position. And yet neither of them had ever seen such intimacy in real life before. It was enough to make Teddy briefly forget what they had set out to do in the first place.

It was Victoire who put them back on track. Turning her gaze back to the door, she gasped and grabbed Teddy's arm.

"Look," she whispered.

Teddy followed her gaze. A small leather handbag was lying haphazardly on the carpeted floor. It was exactly the same one he had seen Tabitha carrying earlier, but it didn't make sense. Surely the Auror would be more careful?

"It's too easy," he said.

"Oh, come on," Victoire whispered.

"I'm serious, Vic. What if it's a trap?"

"There's only one way to find out."

"What if they come out?"

At this, Victoire scoffed. "Please. In case you hadn't noticed, they're a little distracted."

She didn't wait for him to reply. Kicking off her shoes and gripping the banister, she raised herself to her full height. A quick glance around confirmed they were really alone. She deftly leaped up the stairs and towards the bag, her feet moving soundlessly across the carpet. Teddy held his breath as she lifted the bag and, smiling triumphantly, made her way back to him.

"Here."

Trepidation settled over him. As he reached for the clasp, he felt his lips go dry and his stomach muscles tauten. He struggled to unfasten the bag, his fingers unable to operate the metal contraption. This felt wrong. It _was_ wrong - an invasion of Tabitha's privacy on a number of levels. And yet, he knew he had to do it. Whatever was in her bag concerned Ella. And if it concerned Ella… well, then it concerned him by extension.

"It's okay," Victoire whispered.

The bag opened, and he began to rifle through it, pushing aside lipstick, ID cards and eye make-up until he found what he was looking for: a small, folded sheet of parchment. He lifted it out of the bag and, glancing at Victoire, began to unfold it.

It was a photocopy of an official Ministry record - Teddy recognised the stamp on the top right corner. He traced his fingers over the elegant black lettering at the top of the page.

"Tiwari - Family Tree," Victoire read, looking at Teddy confused. "Who are the Tiwaris? What do they have to do with Ella? Are they related to her?"

"I don't know," Teddy said, shaking his head. He tried to think logically - it was a family tree. The youngest members of a family tree were at the bottom. If Ella was related to this family, she would be somewhere near the bottom.

His gaze travelled to the last branches of the tree, searching through the names until he found her. Ella Anderson, b. 1998. Her brother was next to her - Ashton Anderson, b. 2000. Using his finger, he began to trace upwards. Her father, Callum Anderson, married to her mother, Rhea Anderson, nee Tiwari. There were no more branches connected to Callum, but from Rhea, the tree only grew.

"It's her mother's family," Teddy whispered.

He knew very little about Ella's parents, for she had only really told him the basics. He knew that her mother had been born into an old Indian pureblood family, but as a Squib, had been educated and brought up in the muggle world, where she had met Ella's father. He knew that Ella had once been close with her grandmother, but she had passed away in their third year. Beyond that, he wasn't sure she had much contact with any of her mother's family - if she had, she had never mentioned it.

And yet somehow, they were obviously relevant to the investigation.

He continued to trace the tree. Ella's mother had a single sister, Radhika, who was unmarried and childless. Ella's grandparents were both deceased, as were her great-aunts. He stopped moving up the tree and began to move sideways - the grandparents had siblings, those siblings had children and…

"Look," said Victoire suddenly, reaching over Teddy's shoulder and pointing at a name. "She's circled it."

Surely enough, there was a faint pencilled circle around a name.

 _Mandira Tiwari, b. 1978_

"Who's Mandira Tiwari?" Victoire asked.

He'd heard the name before. He knew he'd heard the name before, but he couldn't place it.

Teddy took a moment to trace the tree back to Ella. "Judging by this, she's Ella's mum's cousin," he said. "But otherwise, I have no idea."

.oOo.

 _IX: Tabitha (Boxing Day)_

The clock on the bedside table read 3:30am in bright red letters. Next to her, Munroe was sprawled on his stomach, in a deep slumber. He hadn't stirred the few times she'd gotten up to go to the washroom and she doubted he'd rise now. She'd tired him out too thoroughly.

When she'd suggested leaving the party, he'd suggested Apparating to his apartment, as if on cue. She couldn't have planned it better herself.

She gingerly climbed out of the sheets and lifted her wand from the bedside table, trying her best to remain silent. Creeping out of the room soundlessly, she tried her best to ignore the nervous chill that ran through her body as she slipped through the doorway, her thigh grazing against the wooden frame. If Munroe woke up and found her, she was done for. He'd never trust her again, and she'd have lost the best – perhaps the _only_ – chance she had at finding evidence to back up her theory.

 _No._ There was no time for doubts. Not now.

Munroe's apartment was, thankfully, small – a simple one-bedroom in Camden. Still, it was difficult not to feel jealous. It was immaculate, with hardwood floors, high ceilings, interior decoration that was obviously the work of a professional, and overall, an expensive feel to it. It wasn't the kind of place an auror could afford, and Tabitha theorized that his parents had paid for it. Munroe's family must be wealthy. It wouldn't surprise her, given the company he kept.

She wasn't entirely sure where to begin her search, perhaps because in truth, she wasn't sure what she was looking for. A cursory glance around the room revealed a desk littered with papers. She tip-toed towards it, and, creating a small light at the tip of her wand, began to shuffle through them as quietly and quickly as she could. When she found nothing, she cast a muffling charm and began to rifle through the drawers. The first contained nothing but old case files, the second only Munroe's personal documents. A quick examination of those revealed nothing interesting.

The third contained only a single file that warranted more careful examination. Names jumped out at her. _Leslie Stiles. Melissa Cooper. Arlington Dursley_. And yet nothing was out of place - every single sheet was one that Munroe legally had access to as a member of the team working on the case. There was nothing suspicious, nothing that he shouldn't have.

Sighing, she closed the file, and leaned back against the window. The icy glass pressed against the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine. For a moment, she let her eyes flutter close, and inhaled deeply.

 _Focus,Tabitha._

Exhaling, she opened her eyes and let her gaze travel around the room until it settled on a shelf just above where Munroe hung his keys. She hadn't noticed it the first time she'd entered the apartment. Granted, she had been otherwise occupied, but the case was rather inconspicuous, painted exactly the same shade of cream as the rest of the wall. It held three volumes: simple, red leatherbound books. Perfectly unremarkable.

Curious, she walked towards the shelf and extracted the first. The cover and spine were unmarked, and it wasn't until she opened it that she realized it was a photo album.

Kneeling down, she began to flick through the pages. The first photo was of a beautiful blonde woman holding a baby that she assumed was Munroe, the next of two small children that she assumed were Munroe and his sister (she didn't know that he had a sister and found herself wondering what sort of relationship he had with her). She noted with surprise that whilst in some photos, people moved, in others they remained perfectly stationary. Clearly, there were muggles in Munroe's family.

She reached the end of the first album before long. It documented Munroe's life from birth until approximately age nine - hardly what she was interested in. Moving on to the second album, she noted with interest the photos of Munroe at Hogwarts. There he was, eleven years old, proudly standing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters next to an owl cage and a trunk larger than he was. There he was at thirteen, all bundled up in a Slytherin scarf and robes. There he was at fifteen, holding up what looked like his O.W.L. grades, an expression of pure joy on his face.

Tabitha turned the page and gasped. There he was at seventeen. He looked resplendent - his hair shiny and combed, his skin glowing, his tie neatly fastened. Her attention, however, was not drawn to him, but to the two girls standing next to him.

One was a beautiful Indian girl. She had dark intelligent eyes framed with glasses, a soft jawline and flowing brown curls. On his right was a striking dirty blonde with a sharp nose and green eyes that seemed to come alive. Both were laughing in the photo.

Tabitha removed the photo from the album and flipped it over. Neatly printed on the other side was the caption:

 _Angus with Mandira Tiwari and Cecilia Selwyn at their Hogwarts' farewell, 1996._

This was what she needed. Evidence of a connection. Smiling, she leaned down to slip it into the pocket of the pajamas she was wearing when she noticed a slip of parchment on the floor. She reasoned it must have fallen out when she removed the photo from the album, and picked it up.

It was tightly folded, the creases hardened to the point where they had weakened the parchment. Tabitha carefully unfolded it, taking care not to let it tear. It was a letter, dated to the week before.

She scanned through it and cursed silently. It made no sense to her - a mixed-up bundle of letters and symbols, a code or cipher of some sort that she would need to take to the Ministry to be deciphered.

And yet when she reached the end, her eyes widened in shock. _It couldn't be_. And yet there was her name, written in plain English, signing the letter off.

Tabitha checked the date again. It was written in deep blue ink - December 18th, 2013. But how could this be? Prisoners weren't allowed to send letters.

Mandira Tiwari had broken Azkaban rules to write to Angus Munroe. And Tabitha James had a pretty good idea of why she had done so.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered to herself.

* * *

A/N: This chapter took THREE MONTHS to write. Granted, there was very little writing at times (blame my dissertation, guys), but wow – this must be the longest Christmas day ever.

Props to guest reviewer Sarah for reminding me that the tube doesn't run on Christmas day! And props to all of you for sticking with Teddy and his friends – and me!

As usual, updates will likely be slow but steady. I have a pretty comprehensive outline for the rest of fifth year that I can't wait to write, so whenever I get the time, I promise I'll keep going. You can follow me on Tumblr (sincerelynymph) to keep track of my progress!

Have a great 2018, and I'll see you all soon!


	15. Chapter 15: Flux

**Chapter Fifteen: Flux**

 **Recap:** Ella (fondly called _pari_ , which means 'fairy' in Hindi, by her family) and her boyfriend, Leonardo Torricelli (more commonly known as Leo) have a fight. Victoire and Teddy steal a piece of parchment from Tabitha James' bag at Uncle Harry's Christmas party, which has Ella's maternal family tree on it. The name Mandira Tiwari is circled and Tabitha seems to think Mandira has some kind of connection to the case. Tabitha sleeps with Munroe to get access to his apartment and snoops around once he's asleep. She finds (a) a photo from his Hogwarts graduation of him with Mandira Tiwari and someone named Cecilia Selwyn, and (b) recent correspondence from Mandira, apparently from Azkaban.

 **Content notes/trigger warnings:** sexual harassment in scene III.

* * *

.oOo.

 _I: Origins_

Ella Anderson stood at the bottom of the Anderson's mahogany staircase, frozen in place.

All around her, the house was in a panicked frenzy. The cleaners were at work, the whirr of the vacuum irritating, ubiquitous and difficult to ignore. Ashton, who was to start school tomorrow, was frantically searching for his lost history assignment, rooting through books, laundry and - inexplicably - the kitchen cupboards. Her father was in his office, and every now and then, she could hear him shouting at his computer about financial records, missed deadlines, or the guest list for their company's charity benefit. Everything around her was in motion, and yet she felt completely and utterly still.

Teddy had sent her the Tiwari family tree by post, along with a letter explaining the context of how and why he had obtained it. She remembered unfolding the parchment carefully, running her fingers along the black letters and lines, understanding it both completely and not at all.

Her mother never spoke about her family. It was something Ella had simply accepted. While she had cousins from her father's side that she regularly interacted with, she'd never met anyone from her mother's family except her grandmother. When she'd passed away, they hadn't even attended the funeral. Ella had never asked why - she always assumed that Rhea was an only child, and that her extended family members didn't want anything to do with her thanks to her lack of magical ability.

But now, seeing the tree, she wondered whether her mother had deliberately distanced Ella from the rest of the family. Learning that her mother had a sister was enough of a shock, but learning that her mother's cousin was embroiled in recent events?

She found it difficult to process, more so because she didn't have the whole story. As much as she wanted to, it wasn't as if she could knock on Tabitha James' door and ask for an explanation.

 _Who is this woman?_

 _Why do you think she's involved?_

And most of all, _has she done anything like this before?_

All she had was a stolen piece of parchment and hearsay. And this, to Ella Anderson, who had an insatiable desire for knowledge, was simply unacceptable.

 _(six days before)_

Her first port of call was Rajiv. The morning after she received the letter, she woke up and went down to breakfast early, hoping to catch the butler alone before her parents or brother arose. She'd briefly considered asking her mother, but after more careful consideration, had quashed the idea, telling herself that if her mother somehow found out about the tree and how she had obtained it, Teddy might get into trouble. Deep down, however, uneasiness churned in the pit of her stomach.

Her mother wasn't the kind of person to lie and keep secrets. Ella knew that if there was something she hadn't told her, there was likely a good reason. Maybe she needed to be protected from the truth. Common sense and family loyalty told her to trust her mother. But three children were missing. If it had something to do with her, she _needed_ to know.

She found Rajiv in the dining room, setting a platter of cut fruit on the deep oak table. "Up early, _pari_ ," he commented, bemused. Ella was normally an early riser, but there was something awfully soporific about the holiday season. She found herself constantly exhausted, and slept in late every morning.

She took a deep breath in to steel herself, her hands unconsciously closing into fists. "Who's Mandira Tiwari?"

The older man inhaled sharply. Furrowing his eyebrows, he surveyed her carefully. She felt rather uncomfortable under his scrutiny; her fingertips interlaced behind her back and she shuffled slightly. It took every inch of her self-control to maintain eye contact.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked her after what felt like an eternity.

"It doesn't matter."

"Ella." He only called her by her given name when things were serious, and she felt her stomach plunge. She had been hoping that this was all a misunderstanding.

Sighing, she reached into the pocket of her silk dressing gown and withdrew the family tree. She unfolded it and handed it to the butler, who scanned it, his eyebrows drawing closer and closer together.

"Where did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter," Ella said again, emphatically. Everything began to come out in a rush of words, a steady stream of consciousness: "Who is she? I didn't know my mother had cousins - or even a sister! Why would she keep this from me?"

She knew what he was going to say well before he said it. He bit his lip, and glanced at the plate of food distractedly, and for a moment, Ella hoped that she had broken through. But Rajiv's guiding value was, and always would be loyalty. If her mother had asked him to keep a secret, he would keep it.

"It's not my place to say. You'll have to ask your mother."

 _(the present)_

She hadn't asked her.

How was she to broach the topic? Talking to Rajiv about it was one thing, but to the person who it seemed had actively concealed something important from her?

Whenever Ella Anderson usually had a question, she turned to books. There was something reliable about words in print; she felt reassured by the facts they held. And yet there was no book that would tell her how to do this. It was one of those things in life that she would need to figure out for herself.

This was her last chance, she thought as she stood at the bottom of the staircase. She went back to Hogwarts tomorrow and before she left, she _needed_ to find out. Writing to her mother wasn't an option - this wasn't the sort of thing you put in a letter. The thought of having to go through a whole term with an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty and bubbling fear in her stomach made her nauseous. Ella knew that she didn't have a choice.

She found Rhea Anderson in her study, typing furiously away at her computer. Seeing her, Ella began to back away from the doorway. _She's busy_ , she thought. _This isn't the time_.

"Ella?" Rhea looked up from her computer, and Ella froze. "Are you alright?"

It was now or never.

"Who's Mandira Tiwari?"

Rhea's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline and a muscle in her jaw twitched. Her fingers froze, hovering in mid-air above her keyboard. Ella watched with trepidation as slowly, her mother regained movement. Exhaling deeply, she leaned back in her chair and reached up to massage her temples.

"You'd better come in," she said at last. "And shut the door behind you."

Ella followed her mother's instructions dutifully. She pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Rhea, who was now biting her lip, uncertain of how to proceed. The silence between them was deafening and the younger witch wondered if she should say something - perhaps apologise for bringing up what seemed to be an uncomfortable topic, or provide more context.

Thankfully, Rhea began to talk. "I knew you would find out eventually."

"Find _what_ out, Mum? Who is she?"

"Mandira Tiwari is my cousin."

"I know that." Ella tried unsuccessfully to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Rhea sighed and closed her eyes. "She is also a convicted Death Eater."

It was as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Ella felt as if she was caught in a blizzard wearing next to nothing, slowly freezing to death. Her skin prickled and her blood felt cold in her veins. She stared at her mother, who was looking back at her with wide, fear-filled eyes.

This had to be some sort of nightmare.

She tried to speak, but no words came out. When they did, she was only able to whisper a single shaky, halting syllable: "What?"

Rhea's gaze dropped, and she began to fiddle with her bracelet. "I didn't want you to know. I wanted to protect you. I-" her voice broke, and Ella was almost afraid to look at her because she knew she'd see tears in her eyes.

"Mum," she said softly, reaching out and taking Rhea's hand in hers. Their fingers intertwined and Rhea squeezed her palm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"No," her mother cut her off, inhaling shakily. "No, you have every right to know. She's related to you too, and there's nothing I can do to change that. I'd rather you … I'd rather you found out from me than from someone else."

She paused and wiped a tear from her cheek with her free hand before continuing. "My family - the Tiwari's - are Purebloods. I must be the only Squib they've ever produced. Mandira was … is a talented witch, several years younger than me. She went to Hogwarts, and they say that while she was there, she fell in with a bad crowd. Got the wrong sorts of ideas, supposedly fought on the wrong side during the war. I suppose it wasn't difficult for her. My family has some … questionable ideals. It's why you've never met many of them." She smiled sadly. "Anyway, shortly after the end of the war, Mandira went a bit mad. I guess she found it difficult to believe that it was over. Many Death Eaters did. It was a time of uncertainty - a lot of people thought someone would step up and take Voldemort's place. Ultimately, no one did, though some tried. Maybe Mandira thought she could assume leadership, or maybe she knew she would get arrested anyway. I can only guess at her motivation."

Ella's shoulders went limp. "What did she do?"

"She replicated a crime committed at the end of the First Wizarding War. Blew up a street of muggles, only instead of killing twelve, she killed twenty."

The bile rose in Ella's stomach, and it was all she could do not to throw up. Her mother yelped and she realised that she was gripping her hand so tightly that the colour had drained out of her knuckles. Letting go, she brought her hands together, interlacing her fingers tightly as if she was physically holding herself together.

How could this have happened? How could someone in her family have committed such atrocities? It shook her to her core. She might have never met Mandira, she might have never heard of her until a week ago, but she was still connected to her by the blood that ran in both of their veins. All of a sudden, everything that had happened felt too close, too personal. She wanted to jump up from her chair and run out of her house, out of her neighbourhood, as far as she could get until her legs collapsed beneath her and she found herself on the concrete, out of breath and aching all over, and yet she knew it would do her no good.

Some things, once heard, cannot be forgotten.

"What happened to her?" she asked. Each word was a Herculean task; her head was spinning, and it took all the force she could muster to focus on a single thought, a single action.

"She's in Azkaban. Locked away for the rest of her life."

She exhaled, her eyes drifting closed in an expression of relief. That this terrible woman was imprisoned was as much of a comfort as anything could be; Ella wasn't sure how she would have responded if she'd found out that she was still out there, capable of striking again at any unexpected moment.

Rhea reached forward, cupping Ella's shoulder with a comforting hand. "It's okay, _pari_ ," she said, attempting to hide the all-too-palpable tremble in her normally calm voice. "She can't hurt us. Not any more."

Ella nodded, trying to ignore the sharp, stinging pain at the edges of her eyes and the prickling feeling that had spread across her skin. She got up shakily, vaguely aware of her body supporting her, and turned to go when suddenly, another name popped into her mind.

The family tree had been unfamiliar in more ways than one.

"Mum," she began hesitantly, before pausing.

"Yes, _pari_?" Her mother's voice was soft, sympathetic.

"Who's ... " she couldn't remember the name. "I didn't know you had a sister."

Something that looked like anger flitted across Rhea Anderson's face, but it passed so quickly that Ella couldn't be certain whether or not she had imagined it. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the room had unmistakably changed; the air felt heavy.

Rhea's words, when she spoke at last, cut through the air like knives.

"As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a sister."

"But - " Ella began.

" _Pari_. I have told you enough for today." She was firm, final. Ella, understanding that she had asked enough, turned and left.

As she walked up the stairs to her own room, she shivered. It was as if someone had dropped her into a tub of ice and left her outside, wet and shaking, without anything to cover herself. The minute she reached her bedroom, she shut the door and curled up underneath her soft woolen bedcovers, trying to hold onto heat, trying to hold onto a semblance of normality.

 _How could this have happened?_ How could she have known nothing about her aunt? She thought she could vaguely remember reading about a street of muggles blown up at the close of the war, but she wasn't sure if it was a false memory that her brain had constructed to soften the blow of the unexpected news. It didn't matter, she suppose, whether she knew before or not. What mattered was that she did now.

And yet her last interaction with her mother remained prominent in her mind. One thing had been revealed, yet, but another remained hidden, lurking beneath the surface.

Ella Anderson was used to keeping secrets. After all, very few people at Hogwarts knew that her mother was a Squib - it had taken a year before she'd even confessed the fact to Alfie and Teddy. But for the first time, she realised that though she kept secrets, she did not expect those close to her to keep secrets from her. Finding out that her mother of all people had and continued to was a shock to her system.

 _There comes a time in life when something will change you, forever_.

.oOo.

 _II: Training Ground_

"' _During the war itself, Mandira Tiwari's name was rarely, if ever, mentioned in conjunction with the Death Eaters. However, at the end of the war, Tiwari was thrust into notoriety. On the 5th of May, 1998, she murdered twenty muggles, including three children, by casting a Blasting Curse near an entrance to Battersea Park, London - a crime similar to that thought to have been committed by Sirius Black at the end of the First Wizarding War (now known to have been committed by Peter Pettigrew, see Chapter 3). Although she pled innocent and her motives for the crime remain unclear, the overwhelming evidence against her - including proof that it was her wand that cast the curse - was enough for a conviction. Like many other Death Eaters, Tiwari was sentenced to life in Azkaban for her crimes_."

Silence filled the carriage, only the rhythmic sounds of the Hogwarts' Express chugging along the tracks audible. Teddy, Alfie and Victoire stared at Ella, who had just finished reading aloud from a book entitled _The Life and Crimes of Death Eaters_. Riley was not present – she was holed up in a carriage on her own, trying to get through an incomplete Charms essay.

"I – I've got nothing to say," stammered Alfie at last.

"There's nothing _to_ say," sighed Ella, closing the book and slumping back in her chair. "My mum's cousin was a death eater." She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and turned to Teddy. "I'm sorry."

"Because your mum's cousin was a death eater?" he said incredulously. "Ella, it's not _your_ fault."

"Yes, but because of the death eaters, your parents are -"

"It's still not your fault," he said firmly, and he meant it.

She bit her lip and nodded. "I still feel awful."

"I know," Teddy said softly, trying his best to sound reassuring. In truth, he couldn't imagine _how_ Ella was feeling. To learn something like this, so suddenly and unexpectedly - it must have come as a real shock to her. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he simply did not know how.

"Riley's aunt was a death eater too," Victoire supplied in what she hoped was a helpful voice. "It hasn't changed how I look at her, and it definitely doesn't make her a bad person."

Ella chewed her lip. "I know."

"There's one thing I don't understand though," interjected Alfie, crossing his arms. "Why does Tabitha care?"

"What?"

"You know," he continued, more uncertainly, "the whole reason we know about … this is because Tabitha thought that Mandira was connected to the kidnappings. But if she's in Azkaban, then how …"

Teddy opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again when he realised he didn't have an answer.

"He's got a point," Victoire said.

"I've been thinking about that," said Ella, "and I can't figure it out either. She can't have broken out, it would have been all over the news. And prisoners aren't allowed to write to people, so she can't be getting other people to pull the strings for her."

"What about visitors? Could she be giving people instructions when they visit her?" asked Alfie.

"No." It was Teddy who answered this time. "Death eaters - the ones who murdered people especially - are in maximum security. Visits have to be supervised by an auror." Alfie looked at him curiously, and he shrugged. "I used to have nightmares about death eaters, so my godfather explained the security procedures to me."

"How old were you?"

"Eight."

"Ah."

"It just doesn't make sense!" exclaimed Ella suddenly, surprising the other occupants of the carriage. "Tabitha _must_ have a reason for suspecting her, she _must_. She wouldn't have had that family tree, she wouldn't have been so desperate to talk to Robards unless she had a good reason and yet nothing seems to make sense. What M - Tiwari did was awful, but I don't understand how it ties into what's going on _now_!"

"Ella," Teddy said soothingly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the witch's arm.

"I know what you're going to say," she sighed, reaching up to massage the back of her neck.

"And what's that?"

"That we should trust Tabitha, and let the aurors do what they have to do."

At this, he half-smiled. "I do think we should trust Tabitha," he began (he did not notice both Alfie and Victoire roll their eyes), "but I don't see there being any harm in us digging around a little."

"We don't even have half the resources that the aurors do," she pointed out.

"Doesn't mean we can't see what we can figure out."

"But - "

"Ella," Alfie interjected. "Are you telling us that you're seriously okay with just waiting around until Tabitha decides to tell us what she's up to? _If_ she tells us what she's up to, given the fact that we don't _actually_ know her. It isn't as if we regularly go for coffee with the auror department."

There was silence in the carriage as both Teddy and Alfie watched Ella closely, trying to gauge her response. At last, she removed her hand from her neck and shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see what we can find out. I had planned on going to the library sometime soon to see what I can find out about Mandira … and Radhika."

"Who?" Teddy looked at Alfie, who made a confused face.

"Radhika Tiwari. My mum's sister. I asked my mum about her - I didn't know I even _had_ an aunt - but she refused to tell me anything about her. She said that as far as she was concerned, she didn't have a sister."

"That's – interesting." _And odd_.

"Yeah." Ella stared out of the window distantly, speaking more to herself than anyone else. "She told me about Mandira without much effort on my part, really, but when it came to her sister … she just closed off, all of a sudden, and I didn't want to press the issue. Of course, it's possible that she's just not got a good relationship with her - I imagine she's a witch, and probably doesn't look particularly well on my mother's non-magical status, that's the most logical explanation but … " she trailed off.

"It still doesn't make sense," Alfie finished for her.

She scoffed lightly. "A lot of things don't."

"Have you told anyone about this? Besides present company, of course."

The Ravenclaw shook her head. "I don't … I'm barely just processing this myself, Alfie. I'm not ready to share it. I don't even know whether I _want_ to share it. Of course, I'm sure Riley will find out by extension – in fact –" she broke off and turned to Victoire, "if you don't mind, I… I wouldn't _mind_ Riley finding out. I don't know how I would tell her – we're not that close – but if you – that is to say, Riley might know something, given her connections and you – "

Victoire understood what she meant. "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

"What about Leo?" Alfie said bluntly.

"Leo?" Ella's expression was blank.

"You know. Your boyfriend."

"Yes, I know who Leo is, thank you," snapped the witch. Alfie recoiled slightly and she softened her tone. "What I mean to say is, I haven't spoken to Leo since the fight."

"The fight?"

"The fight."

"What fight?"

Ella opened her mouth to respond angrily but Teddy interjected gently: "Ella, you never told us about a fight."

"I didn't?"

"No." He seemed to be playing the role of the peacekeeper today.

"Oh."

"Do you _want_ to tell us about the fight?" Alfie pressed, evidently curious.

"Leo and I had a fight on Christmas day," Ella mumbled. She briefly related the tale; Teddy had no doubt that at the time, it must have seemed like a big deal, but in light of recent events, it seemed almost inconsequential. Still, it had obviously affected Ella, given that she hadn't spoken to Leo at all since.

"If it's worth anything," Alfie said, as Ella finished her story, "I think you're right. Magic should help everyone."

"It certainly shouldn't hurt people," Ella muttered under her breath, leaving both boys feeling rather uncomfortable. "Either way, you probably understand why I don't particularly feel like talking to Leo at the moment."

"You can't avoid him forever," Teddy reminded her. "You are in the same house after all."

"Don't remind me," she groaned, burying her face in her hands. "God, these whole holidays have been a right mess. And to think we have O.W.L.'s in five months!"

Alfie let out a tiny screech. "Don't say that!"

"But it's true!" Ella said, looking rather affronted as she pushed her glasses up her nose. "These exams are _important_ , Alfie, they'll determine what subjects we can do in sixth and seventh years, which'll determine what careers we can go into, and I for one want to keep my options as open as possible. I'll need to start making a revision plan as soon as we get back to the castle - my notes from the beginning of last year are a terrible mess, I'm going to need to rewrite them all. And - "

Teddy tuned out, staring out of the train window and watching the dull green fields roll by. For a moment, it felt almost as if everything was back to normal: Ella continued to ramble on about schoolwork, not realising (or perhaps not caring) that no one was listening to her, Alfie had unwrapped a chocolate frog and was examining the card with interest. It was almost as if the last few weeks hadn't happened.

It gave Teddy hope that despite everything that was going on, despite the fact that things seemed to be changing so dramatically, some things would remain the same.

 _III: Turning Tables_

 _(the past)_

Once upon a time, there were four girls.

Daisy Shipkins was the sort of eleven year old who, despite her relative inexperience, thought she knew exactly what her school life was going to be like. It may have been the result of too many issues of _Teen Witch_ , eagerly devoured when her parents weren't looking, but Daisy simply knew that she was going to be _that_ girl. The one that everyone hated, but loved; who they gossiped about, but desperately wanted to be. She, with her glossy ginger hair, her icy stare (perfected through hours of practice in the mirror) and her polished fingernails, was going to be _that_ girl, and she was going to become her effortlessly. Of course, she was far too young to understand the downsides of being _that_ girl – but more on that later.

Morna Clemmons was as much of a natural leader as a cocker spaniel puppy, and rather resembled one too. She had straight blonde hair with a slightly stringy fringe that fell awkwardly over her eyes, pale freckled skin, and a rather flat nose. Her face was round and she had the pudgy look of an overgrown toddler. Morna had read the same magazines that Daisy had and while she had always considered _that_ girl as a figure to be regarded with admiration and fear, she had only ever considered _becoming_ her in her wildest dreams. Because even at eleven years old, Morna Clemmons knew (though perhaps not consciously) that she did not have it in her.

Giovanna Downing did not want to be _that_ girl for the simple reason that she did not have to be. Perhaps the most unusual out of the four, Giovanna was oddly secure in herself; it was almost as if she'd skipped a developmental stage (or three) and had one morning woken up knowing exactly who she was. She was the sort of girl who did not easily make friends primarily because she was content with keeping to herself. When she _did_ make friends, her silence was often taken as complacency; she said little and did little, and that often made people believe that she was easily influenced. A follower, not a leader – and often, Giovanna simply couldn't be bothered to correct them.

Matilda Goshawk was an unusual case, for she didn't quite seem to fit into a box. She wasn't _that_ girl – she was far too quiet for that – but she wasn't the sort that would blindly follow another, nor was she the kind that could operate on her own. She was somewhere in the middle, and that, perhaps, made her both the one with the most potential, and the one who was most vulnerable.

She was acutely aware of the latter, but not of the former when, after being Sorted into Hufflepuff House on her first day at Hogwarts, she timidly approached her House table, amidst the thunderous applause that only paused for long enough to allow each student to be Sorted. Pulling out the nearest available chair, she sat down next to the two other first year girls who had been placed into Hufflepuff, briefly smiling at each of them. She watched as her brother was Sorted into Slytherin with a mixture of relief and sadness, and joined in with the clapping when "Hayes, Alfie" was made a Hufflepuff.

"Shipkins, Daisy," was one of the last names called. Matilda watched as a petite girl with long red hair strode up to the hat and confidently sat on the stool, her posture perfect. The hat seemed to pause, and the Hall waited with baited breath as it seemed to mull over its' decision. When it finally exclaimed, " _HUFFLEPUFF_ ," Matilda realised – to her own surprise – that she had not expected 'Shipkins, Daisy' to end up in the same house as her. She wasn't quite sure why, she reflected, as the redhead smiled broadly and pranced towards the Hufflepuff table, but there was something about her that seemed decidedly unlike Matilda. And although she knew that each Hogwarts house contained a range of people, she still expected some sort of common thread to link them all. To be entirely fair, though, she mused, watching Daisy hug an older girl with similarly coloured locks sitting further down the table, it wasn't as if she actually _knew_ Daisy. She could be perfectly nice. She supposed that she would find out soon – they'd be sharing a dormitory after all.

But then again, there's no time like the present.

Daisy slid into the seat opposite Matilda, which was (miraculously, or perhaps fatefully) still empty. She smiled at the other three girls winningly, but no-one said anything until after the Sorting had finished, Professor McGonagall had given a short, to-the-point speech, and the table had been filled with nearly every dish that Matilda could imagine. It was only once the Hall began to fill with a dim chatter that Daisy Shipkins spoke at last.

"You must be the other three, then."

None of them seemed to know what to say (or in Giovanna's case, cared enough to say anything), so Daisy clarified: "The other three Hufflepuff first-year girls." She smiled broadly at them, before breaking eye contact and helping herself to a slice of turkey. "We're going to be roommates, you know."

"Really?" Morna asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah," affirmed Daisy (Matilda noted a vague air of superiority), "yeah, you live with all the girls in your house and year. I'm glad there are only four of us – I think four's a good number. Five's too many."

"Yeah, definitely," said Morna. Matilda nodded, and Giovanna looked as if she didn't have an opinion either way.

"Well, what are your names?"

Introductions were exchanged – Matilda was almost certain she noticed Daisy's eyes narrow at her last name, but the other witch's expression was back to normal within a split second, so she thought it may have simply been a product of her imagination. It was quickly revealed that both Giovanna and Daisy were from London, whereas Morna was from somewhere in the country. When Matilda mentioned that she lived with her father in Guildford, Daisy asked at once: "Where's your mum?"

"Sorry?"

"Your mum."

Matilda's gaze dropped to her plate and she busied herself with cutting her roast potatoes in half. "Spain. She's the Ambassador."

"Fascinating. Of what?"

"Of – er – well, Britain."

This time she was certain she saw Daisy's eyes narrow.

"Fascinating," the redhead repeated almost mechanically before swiftly changing the subject.

The dinner itself passed in a blur of food and vaguely stilted conversation – if it could be even called that. Daisy chattered away to the other three girls about school, and her family (she mentioned her older sister, Laura, in nearly every other sentence). Every now and then she would slip in something about how she had _so_ many friends back at home, or how she had had a private tutor before Hogwarts. Matilda, mostly unable to get a word in edgewise, had more success talking to the boys next to her – Teddy Lupin and Alfie Hayes – who seemed nice enough, but Daisy kept drawing her back into the conversation. Matilda was beginning to grow quite sick of her.

Dessert had just been cleared away when things all changed.

And, surprisingly, it was all thanks to Morna Clemmons.

After spending most of the evening enraptured by Daisy Shipkins, Morna suddenly became aware that she was sitting next to a fourth-year boy when he asked her if she had enjoyed the feast. She replied that she had; he asked her her name and so they began to chat. It was two whole minutes before Morna felt something against her bare leg. Gasping, she realised that the boy's fingertips were grazing against her thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her skirt. She looked at him in horror, simultaneously not understanding what was going on and understanding perfectly.

"Y- you – " she began tentatively, but he brought his free finger up to his lips and smiled dangerously.

"Don't tell anyone." His hand moved further, pushing her skirt up and Morna squirmed uncomfortably.

"S-stop it." She muttered, her face going very red.

"You don't mean that," he purred.

"N-no, I –" she tried to summon her strength, "I _–_ I _do_."

It had sounded a lot firmer in her head. The boy merely laughed and Morna felt her body tense, and her skin grow cold. His hand was too high now, she needed him to stop, he shouldn't be doing this, she'd _asked_ him not to, she needed him to _stop_ and –

A loud, piercing scream filled the Great Hall. Mouths dropped, hands were clamped over ears, and heads swivelled around to look at the Hufflepuff table.

"What the _hell_?" The boy jerked his hand backwards and into his own lap, casting a horrified look at Morna. "What in Merlin's name did you do that for?"

But Morna sat staring at him blankly, her shoulders shaking. "I – I hadn't – I _didn't_ –"

"She told you to stop," came a cold voice from behind her.

Daisy Shipkins stared daggers at the boy, who visibly cowered.

"Y-you," he began.

"Save it," she said. "If you _ever_ touch her again, I'll see –"

"You're a _first-year_ – "

She continued, ignoring him: "I'll see to it that you never touch any _one_ or any _thing,_ again." She paused to let her words sink in. "Capiche?"

He hesitated, and then nodded.

Morna turned to Daisy. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

"Don't sweat it," Daisy said, rubbing Morna's hand reassuringly.

"That was a brave thing you did. Screaming like that," said Giovanna, unexpectedly. Morna, Daisy and Matilda all turned to look at her; Giovanna had barely said a word since she had introduced herself. Suddenly aware of the attention, the brunette shrugged. "What? It was."

Daisy flipped her long ginger hair over her shoulder. "I suppose it was."

" _I'll_ say it was," said Alfie Hayes, who was sitting next to Daisy and rubbing his ear ferociously. "But a little warning next time, Shipkins? It'll be a miracle if I can actually _hear_ anything tomorrow."

At this, Daisy laughed, Morna giggled, Matilda grinned and Giovanna suppressed a grin.

"Y'know," said Daisy, "if I have to spend the next seven years sharing a dormitory with three other girls, I'm quite glad that I get to share with you lot. I know we don't know each other well but…" at this, she smiled – both to herself, and to the others – an infectious sort of smile that made Matilda feel as if she was in on a secret, "I think we're going to be great friends." She paused for a moment, as if to let this momentous declaration sink in. "Don't you agree?"

Morna Clemmons agreed because she instantaneously knew, as her sort of girl often does, that sticking with Daisy would mean that she was _in_ , and going against her would mean that she was _out_.

Giovanna Downing agreed because she really couldn't care less, but was of the opinion that going through Hogwarts with at least _some_ friends was likely to be useful.

And Matilda Goshawk agreed because she believed in giving everyone a chance; despite her initial misgivings, perhaps this Daisy Shipkins would turn out to be a nice person after all.

So began the tumultuous adventures of the four Hufflepuff girls.

 _(the present)_

Five years later, on a day much darker and colder than that fateful first of September, Daisy Shipkins, Morna Clemmons, Giovanna Downing and Matilda Goshawk sat together at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall with the rest of their House, enjoying the start of term feast. It was the first time, Matilda mused, that they'd sat together all year as proper _friends_ ; Daisy had technically been angry at her since the summer, and she hadn't apologised until the Christmas holidays – a letter that Matilda, quite frankly, had been shocked to receive.

Still, she was glad that Daisy had finally seen sense. It was nice for them all to be back together again – although there had never really been a point when she'd been _friendless_ , she missed having her three best friends around her. True, Daisy could be a pain sometimes, Morna vapid, and Giovanna complacent, but they did always have fun together, and the dormitory just wasn't quite the same when they were fighting.

Giovanna seemed to be thinking the same thing. "It's good to have you back, Dais," she said, her voice barely audible above the din of the hall.

At this, Daisy looked confused. "You never lost me."

Giovanna shrugged. "You seemed like a different person last term. We've always known you to be a touch shallow and self-obsessed – "

"Oi – "

" – but you've never been a bad person."

"Yeah," Morna interjected, "yeah, like remember in first year when you screamed when that _creepy_ guy was –" she shuddered and broke off, but her point had been made.

"Precisely," said Giovanna. "But last term – what with you being downright _cruel_ to Matilda and Bella Watson –" the former shifted uncomfortably at this " – it just wasn't like you. I'm glad you realised that."

"Yeah, well … I had help." Daisy had a distant look in her eyes, but it was gone within a second. "Plus, it was quite the shock when _this_ one – " she gave Morna a friendly nudge "- stopped talking to me."

"Yeah, well, you deserved it," said Morna, uncharacteristically cheeky.

"Prat." Daisy stuck out her tongue before sobering. "But also fair enough. I wasn't very nice." She turned to Matilda. "Especially to you, Mat. I'm sorry."

"I know," said Matilda. "I've forgiven you."

There was a moment of silence, and then Giovanna asked: "Has Bella Watson?"

"Sorry?" Daisy looked startled.

"Forgiven you."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Well?" Giovanna demanded. "Has she?"

"I don't see how that matters," said Daisy lightly. "Pass the salt, will you, Mat?"

Matilda obliged, but noticed that Daisy was very obviously not looking at her as she took the shaker.

Giovanna, however, was not willing to drop the topic. "Why aren't you answering the question? She either has or she hasn't."

"Gi – " Morna began, a pleading tone in her voice. She, at least, could see where this was going.

"Well?"

"She hasn't," said Daisy simply – but once again, she could not meet Giovanna's eyes and the brunette picked up on this.

"You're lying."

" _Honestly_ ," laughed the ginger witch, "why would I lie?"

"Because you haven't apologised to her, have you?"

Silence. Matilda watched as the false smile fell off Daisy's face.

"I don't see how that's any of your – "

"Oh _come on_ , Daisy, here I am going on about how you've _changed_ , and you're a _better person_ , and here you are letting me believe all that _idiocy_ when really, you've not changed at all!"

"I have!" exclaimed Daisy petulantly.

"No!" Giovanna shouted, shaking her head. People were starting to look at them, but neither Daisy or Giovanna seemed to have noticed. "You haven't at all. Why didn't you apologise?"

"I –" Daisy seemed almost at a loss for words. "I don't see why I need to!"

"You don't – " Giovanna broke off and laughed incredulously. " _Are you hearing yourself right now_?"

"I – "

"Save it! I don't even want to _hear_ you try and defend yourself. You don't see – how can you not see why you need to? You almost ruined _her life_ , Daisy, you accused her of breaking a rule that she didn't."

"Technically that was Laura, not Daisy," Morna mumbled under her breath.

"But Daisy did contribute," Matilda pointed out. "She helped to spread the rumour."

"Oh, so you're on her side now?" Daisy snapped, sneering at Matilda through narrowed eyes. "I should have known."

"N-no," Matilda began, but the other girl cut her off.

"What _is_ this anyway? Did the two of you – " she gestured at Matilda and Giovanna " – only accept my apology so that you could come here and scream at an unsuspecting me? Publicly humiliate me in front of everyone?"

"No," Matilda tried to protest, but Daisy did not hear, for Giovanna cut her off with a loud, overdramatic laugh.

" _Please_ ," she said emphatically, "stop playing the victim. You're embarrassing yourself enough as it is."

"I am _not_!"

"You are _too_."

"Please stop it," Morna whimpered, but neither Daisy nor Giovanna paid her any heed.

"I can't _believe_ I ever thought you were sorry. I can't believewe were ever _friends_."

"Maybe we never were!"

"Well, we definitely aren't now. Friends don't lie to each other!"

"I didn't lie to you!"

"You said you were sorry!"

"To _you_! I _never_ said anything about being sorry to her."

"Well, that's the damn _problem_ isn't it?"

"I don't see how this is any of your business!"

"You really _are_ a shallow idiot aren't you?"

"If I'm a shallow idiot, then..." the redhead seemed to be scrambling for words, "then... you're a stupid...unfeeling... _harlot_!"

At this, Giovanna scoffed: "I'm surprised you even know what that word _means_!"

But Daisy was not one to be stopped so easily. A thin, almost devilish smile had formed on her lips, and when she began to shout again, her voice, though still clearly audible, was far more calculated: "No, wait, you _can't_ be a harlot because to _be_ a harlot, you need to actually have some experience with boys and you don't have _any_ because you're too much of a prude to even tell the boy that you like that you like him. So maybe you're just a frigid, immature – "

" _GIRLS!_ " a male voice boomed across the hall, silencing then. Professor Macmillan was striding towards them, very red in the face. "That will be _quite_ enough. Ten points from Hufflepuff, each! You will both quieten down and eat your dinner, or go back to your dormitory."

"But, she – " Daisy began to protest, but Professor Macmillan was not having it.

"That's twenty points from Hufflepuff you've lost now, Miss Shipkins. Care to try for thirty?"

Daisy's face grew nearly as red as her hair. She stared down at her plate, and for a split second, Matilda thought she looked rather despondent. But then she looked up again, and there was a hard, steely determination in her face and a flatness in her eyes.

"You know what? I'm not very hungry anymore." She pushed her chair out with incredible force and, getting hurriedly to her feet, pulled her cloak around her and stormed out of the hall.

There was a moment of pin-drop silence, and then, the screech of chair legs on the floor. "I – I should go," stammered Morna Clemmons, standing up and clumsily gathering her cloak. She didn't meet Giovanna and Matilda's eyes; instead, she kept her gaze carefully pinned to the ground as she left the Hall hurriedly, half-walking, half-running after her distraught friend. Matilda watched her go with a sinking feeling in her heart – she should have known that it had all been too good to be true.

"Circe," Alfie muttered to Matilda under his breath, "What is it with you four and feasts?"

Giovanna heard this and turned to address him, her voice carrying so all of Hufflepuff House could hear: "Believe me. It wouldn't be Hogwarts unless one of us was stirring up trouble."

 _._ oOo _._

 _IV: The Other Side of the Bridge_

All in all, Teddy Lupin reflected, as he sat in the Great Hall at breakfast-time the next morning, it had been _quite_ a tiring first day back, what with Ella's revelation on the train, and the showdown between Giovanna and Daisy at the feast. He'd barely been able to sleep at night; his brain had been far too active.

He said so, and Alfie nodded in agreement. "I barely slept either."

"Well," Ella said demurely, taking a sip of water, " _I_ had an excellent sleep."

Teddy raised his eyebrows at this. "You did?"

"Mm."

"That makes perfect sense," he said sardonically. "I stayed up all night thinking about what you told us about on the train, and _you_ slept like a log."

Ella looked slightly affronted at this. "It's not like I haven't lost sleep over it," she replied icily, and Teddy immediately felt a guilty feeling settle in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Her eyes softened and she waved a hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge. All's still not well in Hufflepuff House?" She jerked her chin towards the doorway; Daisy and Morna had just entered the Hall and Daisy, noticing Giovanna and Matilda chatting animatedly at the end of the Hufflepuff table, had grabbed Morna's arm and dragged her off in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Teddy shook his head. "Honestly. _Girls_."

"Daisy should have apologised," Ella said simply

"Yeah," Teddy had to agree with that, "but to end a friendship over it? I don't know, if I was Giovanna I'd have tried to – I don't know, get her to apologise? Not yell at her in front of the whole school."

"No, I suppose not," she sipped her water again, absentmindedly.

"Well," said Alfie, getting to his feet, "I should probably go. Quidditch practice."

"Already?"

"You know Macey." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin forbid we get _one day off_."

"You've had a whole _holiday_ off."

"No. She gave us _homework_."

"And I bet you did _her_ homework – which you aren't graded on, by the way –instead of the Transfiguration essay, which contributes to your end-of-term mark and is crucially important for your O.W.L.'s."

Blushing, Alfie protested: "I've done _half_ the Transfiguration essay."

" _Right_."

"Alright, maybe a quarter…"

At this, Teddy laughed. "You're a terrible liar, Hayes."

"But I _have_ done ha—I mean, a quarter."

" _Go_ , Alfie," Teddy waved the other towards the door. "You'll be late."

Alfie's face dropped. "Right. Sorry." He sped out of the Hall, leaving Teddy fondly shaking his head.

"I should probably go too," said Ella, placing her fork and knife soundlessly on her empty plate. "There were a couple of things I wanted to double-check in my Transfiguration essay before lessons start tomorrow, and I need to get my hands on the library's copy of _A History of Wizarding England: Volume 18_ before anyone else does."

"I don't think there'll be a big rush," Teddy commented lightly.

"You'd be surprised," muttered Ella. "You've finished, right?"

"Yeah." He watched her as she got up to leave – she seemed alright, he thought. There was nothing obviously wrong, but he had known her for five years – it didn't need to be obvious for him to know that there was something bothering her. Because though she may have pretended otherwise, Teddy knew that Ella Anderson had not been sleeping well.

It was the little things, really. Though she was dressed impeccably, as always, she wasn't wearing eyeliner like she usually did, and the whites of her eyes were tinged with red. Her stockings were slightly bunched around the ankles and she hadn't said a word before she had had several large sips of black coffee.

"Ella," he said abruptly, and the Indian witch paused.

"Yes?"

"I –" he faltered. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

He saw a spark of surprise, followed by gratitude. "Of course I am."

"Really?" He felt almost silly asking it.

"I promise."

"Well… if you're not, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Teddy," Ella said, almost bemused, "we've been best friends for five years. Who _else_ would I talk to?"

This made him feel a little better, but as he watched her leave the Hall, and got ready to leave himself – he, too, had work he needed to get done before term officially began – he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that she wasn't being entirely truthful with him.

.oOo.

 _V: Chasing_

"Did you hear?" Victoire Weasley exclaimed excitedly, rushing up to meet her best friend outside the Charms corridor. " _Did you hear_?"

"Hear what?" asked Riley Carrow, amused.

" _Peter Rose was kicked off the Quidditch team_!"

"Wait." Riley held up a hand. "Who?"

"Peter Rose!"

"Not answering my question, Gryff."

"Huh?" Victoire paused for a moment and then, realising her excitement had gotten the better of her, began to explain: "He's one of the Gryffindor Chasers."

" _Oh_ – the one with the curly hair?"

"No, that's Marcus Abbott. The blonde one."

"Oh, _him_."

Victoire rolled her eyes dramatically before continuing on: "Well, apparently – and I don't know the full details because Clarissa Billings only just told me – but apparently he was doing awfully in Potions - and by awfully I mean like, actually failing out, like actually on the verge of getting a T, so Professor Smith had a word with Professor Longbottom, and they decided that he ought to spend more time in the library rather than out on the Quidditch pitch. So they gave him a rather stern talking to, and _boom_ , just like that, he's out." She clapped her hands to demonstrate the suddenness of this action. Riley stared at her blankly.

"So did he drop out, or did he get kicked out?"

"How does it matter?" said Victoire impatiently. "The point is that there's a spot open on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The second-string Chasers are all seventh-years and they don't think they can commit to the full schedule of first-string training, so Katherine's opening up tryouts."

Riley waited for her to continue; when she did not, she prompted: "And?"

"You're making me do all the work here – come _on_ , Riles. There's a spot open on the team."

"I repeat – and?"

Victoire sighed. "And, I was thinking I might try out."

"Are you kidding?" the Slytherin witch exclaimed. Victoire looked rather hesitant, so she thought best to clarify: "That's fantastic!"

"Right?" the blonde beamed, her face lighting up. "I mean, I wasn't sure when Clarissa said, but then I saw that Katherine Mansfield – the captain – had posted a sign-up sheet and I thought… oh, why not, it's not like I'm an _awful_ flier, and I have plenty of practice from playing with Teddy so much over the holidays and … and I signed up!"

"As much as I despise Quidditch, I have to admit, I'm happy for you."

"Well, I haven't gotten it yet," Victoire said lightly, although there was a definite note of worry in her voice. "There were a few other names already down, and I'm sure the list will grow, and I'm sure there are plenty of people better than me, but I just thought – "

"Vic," the other interrupted, "you'll do great. I'm sure of it."

"Thanks," the blonde said, blushing. "I mentioned I was trying out to Katherine –"

"Katherine?"

"Mansfield, captain – honestly, Riley do we even go to the same school? She said she thinks I should give it a shot – she's not seen me fly in a while, but I don't know, she thinks I'd be okay. And I guess Quidditch is sort of in my blood… most of my uncles and aunts played for Gryffindor, and Aunt Ginny used to Chase for the Holyhead Harpies, so hey – " She broke off uncertainly. "I'm not going to make a fool of myself in front of everyone, am I?"

"Well," said Riley, "you can't exactly predict how these things will go. You might do great, or you might drop the Quaffle on Katherine Mansfield's head –"

"You've really got your bedside manner down, don't you?"

"Shush, let me finish. My point is that you won't know whether or not trying out is worth it until you actually do it. Because it could go great, or not-so-great, but if you don't try out, you won't know."

Victoire stared at her funnily. "That's...that's actually decent advice."

The Slytherin shrugged. "Yeah, well, you're rubbing off on me."

"About time too."

"Oi! I resent that!"

The duo continued to bicker light-heartedly as they approached the Great Hall. Victoire almost didn't notice Teddy leaving – surprising, given that his turquoise hair made him rather hard to miss. When she did spot him, she called out to him, and he obligingly came over to say hello to her and Riley. Victoire wasted no time in telling him about her intention to try out for the team.

Predictably, he was incredibly enthusiastic: "That's _amazing_ , Victoire! Of course you should try out – I've been telling you you should for years."

"Yeah, but no one below fourth year really gets on the team."

"Alfie did," Teddy pointed out.

"He's an exception. He's a pretty good Chaser."

"Yeah, but so are you!"

Her cheeks grew warm at the firmness of the compliment. Teddy's unwavering belief in her was … she couldn't quite describe how it made her feel.

"Hey, you should come and watch tryouts!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Both of you."

"Are you sure you want us there?" said Riley, doubtfully. "I'd feel _worse_ , I think, if I knew people were watching me."

Victoire shook her head firmly. "No, I think having you there would be great. Moral support and all that. I mean, of course you don't _have_ to come –"

"We'll be there," Teddy said quickly, and her stomach did a tiny back-flip.

"Great! It's Wednesday evening – "

"Hold on, sunshine," Riley frowned, "I don't think I _can_ be there – what time is it?"

"Four."

The other witch looked rather embarrassed and ducked her head slightly. "Yeah, no can do – I have a –" she mumbled something incomprehensible.

"A _what_?" Victoire and Teddy chorused.

"A tutoring session," she muttered, the expression on her face dark, as if to suggest that if either of them even _thought_ of teasing her about it, they ought to think again.

"What are you getting tutored in?" Victoire crinkled her nose.

"Transfiguration. Professor Ellacott continues to be unamused by my inability to turn a porcupine into a pincushion."

"Who's tutoring you? _I_ could tutor you, I'm not bad at Transfiguration."

"Lilian Fawley – she's top of seventh year, so I suppose it makes sense." Riley forced a smile. "But anyway, our first meeting is on Wednesday. I can try and make it out early, but I'm not sure I'll be able to. I'm sorry, I'd have liked to come."

"Oh," said Victoire, slightly disappointed, "I suppose it'll just be you then, Teddy."

For a moment, she half expected him to cancel too – surely he must be busy, what with Alfie and Ella, and his O.W.L.s coming up. But she was pleasantly surprised when he smiled reassuringly at her: "Don't worry. I'll definitely be there."

"Great!" The blonde beamed back at her best friend, the smile stretching across her face, and felt her insides warm as he smiled back. The disappointment Riley's cancellation had caused her seemed to have vanished.

Suddenly, she couldn't wait for Wednesday evening.

 _._ oOo _._

 _VI: Sunflowers, and..._

"I think it's great that Victoire's trying out for the Quidditch team," Alfie commented to Teddy as they walked back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, the latter having popped down to the pitch to watch the last few minutes of practice. "She's a good flier, and Merlin knows that Gryffindor need all the good players they can get. They're not a very strong side, Chaser-wise and with Leslie Stiles gone, their Seeking is average, at best."

"But if Victoire gets it, you'll have to play against her," Teddy reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'd rather play against a good team than a poor one. More fun."

"Fair enough." Pause. "Hey, do you have any tips? I could pass them along – or you could just tell her yourself if you see her before I do, but y'know, just in case you don't."

"Hm." Alfie's eyebrows creased in thought. "Well, I suppose … don't drop the Quaffle –"

"No kidding."

"- shut up, I wasn't finished. Before you so _rudely_ interrupted, I was going to say that if you hold the Quaffle in one hand consistently and make sure your other hand is on your broom for stability, you're less likely to drop it. Oh and you should sort of follow your instinct when it comes to deciding whether or not to pass the Quaffle. Like don't pass for the sake of passing, but don't just hold onto it mindlessly if someone has a better shot than you and – oh, hello, Daisy!"

Daisy Shipkins had just descended a staircase, and was standing just in front of the two boys, who slowed to greet her. Strangely, Teddy noted, she didn't seem particularly pleased to see them; in fact, she was distinctly avoiding their gaze.

"Hi," she said brusquely.

There was an awkward moment of silence, when none of them could think of anything to say. Teddy tried to get a better look at Daisy's face in an attempt to better gauge her emotional state but failed: her hair was draped in such a way as to mask her expression almost entirely.

He was about to ask her if she was alright, given the events of the previous evening, but she spoke first: "I have to go."

"I – er – alright," Teddy said, awkwardly, but she hadn't waited for his response. Turning on her heel, she quickly moved down the hall, and, rounding the corner, disappeared out of sight.

"What was that about?" Alfie asked Teddy, but the latter simply shook his head.

"I've got no idea."

 _(Twenty minutes earlier)_

"E-everyone _hates_ me," choked Daisy Shipkins between loud, throaty sobs. She pulled a tissue out of the box that her companion had helpfully supplied, and dabbed her eyes delicately. "I…I apologised," she sniffed, blinking back hot tears, "like you said I should, and everyone… everyone forgave me and it was all back to normal and _then_ –" She began to cry hysterically again, unable to continue.

"I am quite aware of what happened last night," the individual sitting opposite her reassured her.

"Right," managed Daisy between sobs, "right, of course you are. _Everyone_ is. And it's all because I didn't apologise to B-Bella Watson."

"And do you think you should have?"

" _No_!" exclaimed the girl emphatically. "I- I mean, perhaps. But that's my decision. You – you don't understand, she's – she's been horrible to my sister, I can't just _forgive_ her that easily, you know. And if I apologised to her…" she trailed off. "You don't understand."

"Oh, but I do," demurred her companion. "Should you apologise to Miss Watson, you will feel… how best to put it – _disloyal_ , perhaps, to your sister, who has had an ongoing rivalry with Miss Watson for years."

Daisy stared. "Yes," she sniffed at last. "Yes, that's right. I can't do that to Laura."

"Of course you can't, and your friends were wrong to expect you to."

"Everyone hates me."

"Now I'm sure that's not true."

"Well, Morna doesn't," amended Daisy, "but that's because she'll… she's a loyal friend, she'll follow me anywhere. But Giovanna and Matilda," her face darkened, "they won't. And I don't understand why. Giovanna has an older sister _and_ a younger brother, she must know what it's like. And Matilda… well, Matilda I can understand. She _hates_ her brother, or her brother hates her – no one really knows what's going on there, they're twins, but they act like complete strangers. But the point is that neither of them _gets_ what I'm going through. Not like you."

Daisy Shipkins looked up at Professor Charles Smith, and he smiled back, warmly, reassuringly, perfectly. There was something about his presence, about opening herself up to him that made her feel secure, at peace. Hogwarts had become threatening, uncontrollable, but his office…his office was her safe space, where she could pour her thoughts, feelings and worries out and just know that he would understand.

"I am glad you feel that you can be open with me," he said, "and I do hope you know that this office is always open to you."

She nodded in response.

"I'm sorry to hear that things haven't been going well with your friends, and I know it must be difficult for you. But perhaps…perhaps it is a sign." He cracked a smile and Daisy couldn't help but smile back, because there was something infectious about that glint in his eyes. "I never was much good at Divination, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason. If things haven't worked out with these girls…perhaps they're not the people you're meant to be friends with."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps, Daisy Shipkins, you are meant for bigger things." He paused. "Bigger people."

Oddly enough, there was something about this that resonated with Daisy, although she couldn't pin down exactly what it was. If she was being entirely honest, she wasn't even sure she knew what Smith meant. When she asked him to clarify, he simply laughed.

"At this point in your life, Hogwarts is everything to you. It's your home: where you live, sleep, study and eat. But there will come a point, Daisy, where you will leave this castle and everything in it behind. And the world out there is filled with more people, more _opportunities_ than you can ever imagine. Your world is not Hogwarts, Daisy Shipkins, despite what you might think." He paused briefly to let his words sink in, before reiterating: "You are meant for bigger things."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, believing and gullible. "D- do you really think so?"

He smiled at her, and she knew that he understood. "Of _course_ I do."

.oOo.

 _VII: Tryouts_

Ask any Quidditch captain what their least favourite time of the season was, and they would undoubtedly reply: "Tryouts."

Sitting in the stands, Teddy couldn't say he blamed them. Gryffindor trials had been barely running for ten minutes, and Katherine Mansfield had already had to dismiss three first-years, two Hufflepuffs, and two more second-years who had almost gotten seriously injured after mucking around with the bludgers. Within another two minutes it became very obvious that four more first-years had yet to master the basics of flying. It was very clear to Teddy that Katherine was trying her best not to scream, but her patience was wearing thin.

The competition, at least, had been whittled down. He had been rather nervous for Victoire when he had seen how many people were trying out, but there were now only four players remaining: Victoire, one younger and one older boy, neither of whom Teddy knew, and – much to his surprise, and disgust – Terence Gates.

He was watching the four do drills with the Quaffle when he became vaguely aware of a presence behind him. He turned and, recognising the figure, smiled by way of greeting. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Giovanna Downing said, grinning as she climbed down the stairs and slid into the seat next to him. "Is Alfie having you spy?"

Teddy laughed and shook his head. "Nah, my friend's trying out. Victoire Weasley?" Giovanna nodded to indicate she was familiar with the name. "I came to give her moral support."

"That's kind of you," commented the brunette. "I'm here to support my brother." She gestured to the younger boy, who was eagerly passing the Quaffle to Victoire. "He's a third-year – Quidditch _mad_. I'm not sure how good he is, actually, but I promised I'd come watch him try out, so – here I am."

"That's kind of you," Teddy echoed.

The two sat together in silence, their eyes watching the figures on the pitch. It occurred to Teddy that he'd never been alone with Giovanna before – every time he had spoken to her, it had been with one of the other Hufflepuff girls, or with Alfie. He knew very little about her, and wasn't entirely sure what to say to fill the silence between them.

It was Giovanna, who thankfully, broke the ice: "How do you know Weasley, then?"

"Huh? Oh. We've been friends since we were kids, really. Her uncle's my godfather, and I'm quite close with his family."

Giovanna nodded. "That must be nice."

"Yeah," Teddy mused. He supposed it _was_ nice that he was a part of the Weasley-Potter clan. But then again, he couldn't help but wish that it wasn't under these circumstances – that he had his _own_ family, as well as his extended family.

Giovanna seemed to realise this at the same time he did, because she suddenly said: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I – it must be difficult."

He nodded. "Don't worry, I know. It…it is, but it's okay."

More silence; he'd never really spoken about his parents with anyone other than Alfie and Ella, although everyone in school knew. He'd tried keeping it a secret at first – he hadn't wanted anyone to feel sorry for him, or to think of him differently because he was an orphan. It had taken him a while to realise that he didn't _need_ to hide who he was, who his parents were. When people had found out, there had been very little negativity – very little change at all, in fact.

"My – er – my dad's dead," said Giovanna suddenly. "He died in second year. I had to go home for a while, I don't know if you remember."

He did. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she managed a weak smile. "It's just…well, you get over it, don't you? But there's always a hole inside, like … like you're incomplete, like you're a puzzle and there's a piece missing, only you know you'll never be able to find it."

It was as good a description as any, Teddy thought, faintly aware of the aching hole in his own heart.

"I'm sorry," said the brunette, "gosh, look at us – we come out here to have a good time, to support the people we love and here I am, being melancholic."

"It's fine," responded Teddy, earnestly. He paused briefly, and then, awkwardly: "Look, I know we aren't exactly…we don't talk much, but I think you're – er – very nice, and …" he broke off, trying to formulate a coherent sentence in his mind. "I suppose what I'm trying to say," he resumed, "is that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm …well, I'm here."

Giovanna nodded. "Thanks, Teddy. And vice versa. Even though I know you probably don't think much of me."

This took him aback. "Sorry?"

"Well, I've always been one of Daisy's gang to you, haven't I?"

She said this with such alacrity that Teddy wasn't sure how to respond. It was true, of course, but he didn't want to exactly _confirm_ it outright…

"It's alright, you know," continued Giovanna. "I wouldn't think much of me either."

"Don't say that," said Teddy automatically.

She waved her hand dismissively. "You're just being nice."

"No, I – " he hesitated. "Well, alright. But still – I don't really _know_ you. And – and I think it was awfully kind of you, last term, to stick up for Matilda the way you did. She…Daisy was being horrible to her, and you recognised that and stood up to her, even though you probably knew that it would end in –"

"Social isolation?"

"Yeah."

Giovanna bit her lip, as if thinking carefully about her next words. "Here's the thing: I'm not sure I really _care_ about what Daisy thinks of me…or what _anyone_ thinks of me, you know? But – and Merlin, this is going to sound incredibly cheesy – I care what _I_ think of me. And I want to make sure that I'm doing the right thing."

Teddy couldn't help but agree. A moment of silence passed, and his eyes had just flicked back to the Quidditch pitch (which he had been neglecting – he wasn't even sure where exactly Victoire was) when Giovanna spoke up again:

"I think you're really nice, you know."

Teddy turned back to her, and said, jokingly: "I try to be."

"You are," the brunette affirmed. "I'd…I'd like it if we could be friends."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that too."

A loud roar came from the pitch, capturing both Hufflepuff's attention. Terence Gates seemed to be caught up in some kind of argument with Katherine Mansfield: she was angrily directing him off the pitch, and he was protesting fiercely. Victoire was hovering nearby: Teddy couldn't quite tell with the distance, but she seemed to be rather smug about something or the other.

"What just –" he began to ask, but Giovanna shook her head.

"No idea."

They simply had not been paying attention.

 _(ten minutes earlier)_

Why was _she_ sitting with _him_?

Victoire Weasley was hovering on her broomstick several feet into the air. She should, technically, be concentrating on the instructions that Katherine Mansfield was shouting at them; she _should_ be concentrating on the Quaffle; she _should_ be concentrating on anything except Teddy Lupin.

But in all seriousness, what was he doing sitting with Giovanna Downing? She hadn't invited Giovanna Downing – she certainly _hoped_ Teddy hadn't. Still, she supposed it wasn't a _bad_ thing if he had. She'd never specified that he couldn't bring a friend along. But still… he wasn't _friends_ with Giovanna Downing, was she?

Why did she even care?

"Weasley," snapped Katherine, and Victoire redirected her attention to Quidditch. "You're not focusing on the Quaffle."

"Right." She took a deep breath in and tried to clear her head. Focus on the Quaffle. The Quaffle. Nothing but the Quaffle.

No but _seriously_ , why wasn't Teddy looking at her?

She was vaguely aware of Katherine dismissing the sixth year boy, leaving only her, Terence Gates and a third-year named Frederick Downing on the pitch. It dawned on her that Frederick must be Giovanna's little brother, and that must be why Giovanna was in attendance. Still, she didn't have to sit with Teddy and distract him.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" Terence Gates hovered close to her, and she didn't even bother to suppress her groan. She'd been annoyed enough when he'd shown up to tryouts – of _all_ the people in Gryffindor, she thought she disliked Terence Gates the most. Even if he hadn't had it out for her best friend, she would have disliked him: he was arrogant, irritating, and most of all, thought he was Merlin's gift to witches.

And, for the record, he was very much not.

He was attractive enough, Victoire thought, with his pale blonde hair and starkly contrasting dark eyes. There was an air of mystery around him, too – something that Victoire found almost magnetic, but couldn't quite put her finger on. But the expression he wore was off-putting: his arrogance was etched in the curves and lines of his face.

He also had an uncanny ability to read her. He followed her gaze and settled on Teddy and Giovanna Downing, his lips curving upwards into a smile. "You really could do better, you know," he commented.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Victoire snapped.

Terence opened his mouth to reply, but was thankfully cut off by Katherine, who began to deliver instructions for the next drill. Victoire made a point of concentrating. Katherine would play Keeper, and the three Gryffindor's trying out would have three attempts each to score.

"I bet you whoever scores the most goals gets on the team," whispered Terence, his breath tickling Victoire's ear. She whipped her head around and glared at him.

"Shut up, Gates."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Scared?"

She was about to retort cleverly, when the Captain shouted: "Weasley. You're up."

"You heard the lady," smirked the blonde wizard. "You're up."

With one last glare, Victoire zoomed up to the hoops. Katherine tossed her the Quaffle, and, breathing deeply, Victoire got into position. Adjusting her position on her broom, she straightened her back and held the Quaffle out in front of her, attempting to get her bearings and visualise where she wanted it to go. She'd done a number of penalty shots before: this was no different.

She tried to focus on the towering wooden hoops in front of her, but she found her eyes being drawn to the dull patch of turquoise that occupied her peripheral vision. _Don't think about him_ , she pleaded with herself. _Don't_.

But what _was_ he talking about with Giovanna? Was he talking about her? Were they talking about how they didn't want to be there at all? Were they planning on leaving at any moment?

"Weasley," Katherine warned, and Victoire snapped back to reality. Hesitantly, she rolled the Quaffle in her hands and stared at the hoops, trying to formulate a strategy in her suddenly blank mind. _Come on, Victoire._

Summoning her strength, she threw the ball at the centre hoop.

It sailed through the air, and missed entirely.

 _Damn_ , she swore under her breath.

"Bad luck, Weasley," Terence said insincerely as she flew back to the two boys. She did not deign to reply, privately cursing herself for missing. If _only_ she hadn't been so distracted.

Terence was up next and scored. Frederick Downing scored too, leaving Victoire feeling wholly inadequate. She thanked her stars that if anything, it wasn't a sudden death knockout. There were still two more chances – two more opportunities to get the Quaffle through the rings and stay in the game - and have a chance at the team.

Katherine changed the order for the second round. Terence played first and missed, as did Frederick Downing. Victoire felt a wave of relief go through her as she watched the Gryffindor captain catch both balls in her hands, stopping them from sailing through the hoops. She was in this again.

It hit her, as she flew up to take her second shot, just how much she wanted this. Maybe the Quidditch team wasn't anything special – it was, after all, just a House sports team, no different to say, Gobstones, but there was just something about the thought of being a part of something bigger than her that made her bones ache with longing. Being a part of Gryffindor Quidditch would give her a chance to shine – not just as a member of the famed Weasley clan, but as Victoire.

She'd never had the chance to shine as just Victoire before.

It was this thought that powered her. Taking a deep breath in, she pitched the Quaffle with all her might. Katherine dived to save it, but missed.

 _She still had a chance_.

Her confidence, however, was quashed a moment later when Terence, a smug expression lining his face, turned to her. "Nice shot, Weasley." He paused, and for a moment she thought that he was _actually_ being nice. Unfortunately, he quickly followed it up with: "Too bad it was pure luck."

Of course. "Shut up, Gates."

"Make me." He quirked an eyebrow, challenging her.

"I don't need to bother with the likes of you."

"Scared you'll fall for me? Or scared you'll fall off your broom?" He cocked his head, as if surveying her carefully. "You _do_ look rather unsteady on your broom."

Victoire knew he was attempting to intimidate her, but she tightened her grip on the handle of her broomstick regardless. "Leave me alone."

As Frederick flew up to take his third shot, Terence turned to Victoire, a gleam in his dark eyes. "Let's make a bet, shall we? If you don't score on your next go and I do, you go on a date with me."

She scoffed. "As if."

"Where's your sense of spirit, Weasley?" he taunted. "If you're so certain that you can beat me, make the bet."

"What do I get if I win?"

He shrugged. "You can pick."

"Generous."

"Don't look a gift Hippogriff in the mouth. Does this mean you'll take the bet?"

She didn't respond, lost in thought. "You'll leave Teddy alone."

The shock was evident in his eyes. "What!? No wa – "

"If you're so certain that you can beat me, make the bet."

He hesitated. "Fine. You're in?"

For a moment, she hesitated. What if she did have to go on a date with Terence? A million voices protested.

And then, a voice that drowned out all the others: _It would make Teddy jealous._

When she looked up at Terence again, she didn't feel like herself at all. Her voice sounded oddly foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. Her eyes narrowed, and she held her chin firm and high. "Fine."

His eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected her to say yes. She stared him down staunchly; he was the first to break eye contact, flying away at Katherine's command to take his last shot.

He pitched. Victoire watched as the Quaffle sailed through the air, mentally mapping its' trajectory. It was going to go through the hoop, he was going to score, she was going to lose...

Katherine caught the Quaffle squarely between her hands and Terence cursed loudly. Victoire let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in.

All she had to do now was score.

She flew up to the penalty position and caught the Quaffle from Katherine. Her eyes flicked to Teddy. She couldn't tell whether he was watching her, or whether he was engaged in conversation with Giovanna. The pitter-patter of her heart intensified.

She was going to fail.

She was going to miss and then she'd be forced to go on a date with Terence. She would be the laughing stock of the whole of Gryffindor. Her parents would be disappointed. This whole debacle would simply become a story to tell at family parties. Someone would leak it to _Witch Weekly_ on a dry news day. It would become yet another example of how Victoire Weasley had tried but failed to live up to expectations.

The blonde swallowed and closed her eyes. Time around her seemed to slow; all she needed to do was focus on the rings in front of her, on the warm, leathery Quaffle in her hands. Taking a deep breath in, she allowed the clean, sharp air to enter her nostrils and clear her head. She had done this a million times before and she was going to do it again.

Suddenly, she didn't care whether or not Teddy was looking. She was going to make him look. In that moment, she was determined to be so good that no one, no matter whether or not they were named Teddy Lupin, would ever underestimate her again.

A small smile appeared on her face. Firmly gripping the Quaffle, she raised it and

It soared through the centre ring.

.oOo.

 _VIII: The Club_

"I can't _believe_ I made the team!" Victoire Weasley repeated for what must have been the hundredth time that Monday. Riley Carrow resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew that her best friend was excited, deservedly so, and she was happy for her, but Victoire had been rambling on about Quidditch for the better part of an hour and Riley had run out of responses.

The blonde continued to talk about practice schedules and Quaffle drills as they entered the library corridor, on their way to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. Riley's attention drifted; Victoire's voice faded into the background.

She spotted her from a fair distance away. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, and she was walking with her head down. Several large books were tucked under her arm. As they drew closer, Riley could feel the aura of weariness around her – as if she hadn't been sleeping properly.

The Slytherin interrupted Victoire's chatter: "There's something I need to do."

The blonde gave her a confused look. "We have –"

"Tell Professor Macmillan I'll be late."

"Can't you do whatever it is later?"

"No," said Riley, shaking her head. "It needs to be now."

Victoire cocked her head, confusion still evident on her face. Slowly, she followed Riley's gaze, until her eyes landed on the girl. She surveyed her for a moment before turning back to her best friend, and hesitated: "Riles?"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "Don't… don't say anything abrupt."

Riley could not help but smile. "When am I ever abrupt?"

The other rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

"I know."

There was a moment of silence between the two girls until, sighing, Victoire turned and hurried on ahead. Riley waited until the corridor was empty and silent before approaching her target.

"Ella?"

The Indian witch looked up, surprised. "Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing hesitantly. "Hi Riley. Didn't see you there."

"Can I talk to you?"

Ella was far too polite to show discomfort visibly, but Riley could see her reservation in her expression. Nevertheless, she nodded, and the two girls drew into a quiet corner.

Riley hesitated, uncertain how to begin. She wasn't even sure if she was doing the right thing. She'd never done it before – she wasn't really the sort of person to provide advice or reassurance, and, to put it quite frankly, she didn't know how. And it was Ella Anderson, too – Riley didn't think that they had ever had a conversation before, just the two of them.

"Look, I –" she tried, before breaking off. Doubt flickered through her mind, and she almost withdrew, but for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't.

"You?" Ella prompted.

Abruptly: "Victoire told me. About…you know."

"Oh." The Ravenclaw broke eye contact, glancing at her feet and swallowing hard. Riley watched her, awkwardly waiting until she looked up again, all traces of discomfort cleverly masked. "I…er…I told her she could."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Look, I appreciate you…um…letting me know," said Ella, "but I really should be –"

"Don't tell anyone else."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't tell anyone else," Riley repeated.

"I heard you. I wasn't exactly planning on it."

"Yeah, but…" Riley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to best phrase the message she wanted to get across. "Look, the urge to tell the truth can be overpowering. You're...I know you probably think I don't know you very well, and I don't, but I've spent enough time with you over the last four years to realise that you're the kind of person who's honest. You're blunt. And maybe you don't think you'll tell anyone at the moment, but as you come to terms with it…with what your aunt did and who she is….I don't know, you might think that other people won't mind so much." She paused. "You're lucky, you know. People are never going to automatically associate you with…with the Death Eaters unless you make them. It's something you can hide. So…I guess what I'm trying to say is hide it. People can't know. It'll…it'll change the way they see you."

The Ravenclaw stared at her. There was an awkward silence between the two girls, Ella clearly processing, and Riley uncertain of how to proceed. The silence made Riley uncomfortable. She wasn't good with people. She didn't know if she'd said the right thing, or if she should have said anything at all.

She shouldn't have said anything.

She'd done it wrong.

"I have to go," she mumbled. Without waiting to see how the other responded, she turned, and left the corridor.

She didn't see Ella Anderson's face crumple, her mask of nonchalance discarded. She didn't see her turn to the wall and sink her fingers into the ridges between the red bricks, as if holding on for dear life.

She didn't see any of it, but two other people did.

The first was Leonardo Torricelli. Heading from Ravenclaw tower to the library, he caught a flash of Ella's robes and, curious, peeked around the corner to see who was there.

Surprised: "Ella?"

Although she hadn't spoken to him in weeks, she recognised his voice almost immediately. Instead of looking up, she buried her face further into the soft material of her scarf. Her voice was barely audible. "Go away."

"Ella," his voice softened and he kneeled down, reaching out to place a hand gingerly on her knee.

"Leave me alone."

"But –"

" _Please_."

She heard him sigh and felt his fingers drop from her body. A wave of cold air overwhelmed her body as he stepped away, and she listened to his footsteps fade away until she could no longer hear them.

She didn't want him. She didn't want to explain what was going on, or how she was feeling, because she knew instinctively that he wouldn't understand. Leonardo was great, but at the same time… there was something about him that wasn't quite right. It was as if a fence existed between them: she could see him through the posts, she could reach out and touch him, but a barrier existed all the same. Christmas had thrown it into focus, but it had taken her a while to realise it.

"Ella?" said a male voice suddenly, surprising her for she hadn't realised she had company. She automatically opened her mouth to tell Leonardo to leave, when she realised that the voice was different – higher-pitched, gentler. She recognised it almost immediately. The words dissolved in her throat and instead of protesting, she let out a muffled, choking sob.

The boy knelt down so he was sitting next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him. She leaned into him, her knees to her chest, clutching her scarf to her mouth. He was warm and _familiar_ – his skin was soft, he smelled like pine cones and soap suds, and she knew from years of experience that he would understand. She didn't have to explain.

"I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "I…I don't know what to do, Alfie. I just don't know what to do."

"It's going to be okay," he whispered into her hair.

"It's not."

"It _is_ ," he repeated firmly. "We're going to get through this, Ella. Together."

She almost believed him.

 _.oOo._

 _IX: Meanwhile…_

 **Application to the Committee of Prisoner Oversight regarding High Security Prisoner Visitation**

 **Applicant:** Tabitha Margaret James

 **Department:** Auror Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

 **Please state the name of the prisoner you wish to visit:** Mandira Tiwari

 **Reason for visitation:** On-going investigation. Nature: classified. Contact Head Auror Robards for further information.

 **Decision [please leave blank, for official use only]:**

 _The committee has reviewed this application and has contacted Head Auror Robards. Auror James is deemed to have insufficient evidence regarding the usefulness of Mandira Tiwari to this investigation. The Committee suggests (pursuant to Wizengamot Law 7859, Section B, Amendment 6) in the absence of convincing evidence, the risks of visiting a high security prisoner outweigh the benefits._

 _Visitation rights are hereby denied._

\- _Hon. N. Shafiq, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Head of the Committee of Prisoner Oversight_

* * *

 **A/N** : Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and once again, apologies for the wait! A lot has happened in my life since the last update - in a week, I'm going to be graduating! From university! Your gal is going to have an actual real life degree! What even!

Back to the fanfiction...

Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews and your lovely messages on my blog (sincerelynymph)! I _think_ I've replied to all of them - to _Guest_ who asked about character ages - I changed ages between Escapades and TLC so they're not exactly the same. Bella, Macey, Laura etc. were made younger so they were (a) still around and I could write + complete their intended storylines, and (b) Bella and Alfie could have a somewhat normal interaction once in a while (because I am a _big fan_ of that dynamic).

This chapter became so long that I actually had to cut scenes out and move them to the next chapter (hence the startling lack of Tabitha). In the next chapter, however, you will see the following: a call to arms, our fave aurors back/still at it, Ella/Leo (Ellanardo? Lella? Do they even deserve to have a ship name?), and the start of something new...in more ways than one.

As always, around on sincerelynymph and here if you've got questions/comments. See you guys soon!


	16. Chapter 16: Saturdays

**Chapter Sixteen: Saturdays**

 **Recap:** Tabitha suspects an Azkaban inmate named Mandira Tiwari, who murdered twenty muggles in the aftermath of the second war, is linked to the kidnappings after finding correspondence between her and Auror Monroe which is (a) illegal because Azkaban inmates aren't allowed to write letters and (b) Monroe is Tabitha's key suspect because he has had access to both Hogwarts and the Ministry (important for identifying which students are muggleborns). Ella learns that she is related to Mandira Tiwari (who is her mother's cousin) AND that her mother has a sister who Ella's never heard about for reasons unknown. Daisy loses all her friends…again.

* * *

 **PART I: First Saturday**

 _I: Denied_

"That biased, obsolete dingbat! How _dare_ she deny my application?"

"Now, now," said Auror Gawain Robards drolly, as Tabitha James stormed into his office, eyes flaming and very red in the face, "that's no way to talk about your boss."

"Natalia Shafiq is _not_ my boss," replied the witch, obstinately. "You are."

"And she's my boss, so _technically_ , James –"

"This is not the time for technicalities!"

"Actually, it is." Robards' icy voice stood in stark contrast to Tabitha's inflamed passions. He dropped his quill on the desk in front of him and, clasping his hands together, looked up at the witch in front of him. "Shafiq has denied your application. She's higher than me in the hierarchy. There's not much I can do to change things."

"You could –"

"I _could_ put in a good word, ask her to reconsider, but it's not going to be of much use because, quite frankly, she's right."

This dumbfounded the other. Folding her arms and pressing her lips into a thin line, she stalked over to the chair in front of Robards' desk and sat down, meeting his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

The Head Auror shrugged noncommittally. "She's right. You don't have enough evidence." Tabitha opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off: "Face it, James. You have one, illegally obtained letter –"

"Which is evidence that Mandira Tiwari has been breaking the law – and it was _legally_ obtained, as you well know."

"Shafiq, however, does not and I doubt you want to fill her in on all the details of your…unconventional methods." At this, Tabitha's lips became very thin and he chose not to dwell on the subject. "Nevertheless, the letter does not refer to the kidnappings. In fact, it does not refer to anything _remotely_ suspicious." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm sorry, James, but until you have more evidence…"

"I _have_ evidence –" she began to protest stubbornly.

"Not enough!" exclaimed Robards, exasperated. "Why can't you get it through your head that until you have something damning, you will not be allowed to visit a high security prisoner!"

"And why can't _you_ understand that visiting Tiwari might be _how_ I find something damning? I've searched that apartment a million times, I can't find any more correspondence, or anything, really, and he doesn't trust me enough to talk about it – not _yet_ at least. At this stage, Tiwari's my only lead."

The Head Auror folded his arms. "What do you want me to do, Tabitha? Storm up to Shafiq and demand that she gives you visitation rights?"

"Yeah, pretty much!"

"We'd lose our jobs!"

"And three children might lose their lives unless we act!" Tabitha snapped back through gritted teeth.

Silence. The two aurors stared at each other. Tabitha's dark eyes were firm, stubborn and demanding; Robards knew that she wasn't going to cave. No matter what he said, she'd gotten it in her head that she had to talk to Tiwari, and once Tabitha got something in her head, that was that. She would be reckless, she would take risks, but she'd do it. Granted, said risks often paid off, but they were also stupid, and generally dangerous. Robards loathed admitting it, but if Tabitha was going to get herself in trouble, he'd rather know what she was going to do beforehand – not to stop her, because he knew he wouldn't be able to, but to make sure she didn't pull everyone else down with her.

After all, he thought, almost sadly, the future of the aurors would soon be in her hands.

"Shafiq's not going to change her mind," he began. He could see anger flash through Tabitha's eyes and she began to protest impulsively, but he held up a hand to silence her. "You realise I can't officially sanction this."

Tabitha's eyes widened. "You don't mean…"

He met her gaze and said, slowly, as if speaking to a child: "We never had this conversation. I never said you could do it. _I didn't know_ you were going to do it. You acted alone and of your own accord. Do you understand me?"

Silence.

"But…" the witch hesitated, surprising Robards, who had never known Tabitha to hesitate. "If I do find something…if she says something…won't it be inadmissible?"

"At this point, no one will care. Not if you find those kids."

She nodded, and turned to leave. He looked down, returning to his paperwork, when she spoke once again: "Sir?"

"Yes, James?"

There was a pause, then, softly: "Thank you."

He didn't look up; his expression did not change. "There are three lives that are depending on you. Don't let them down."

The gravity of his words was not lost on her. She felt the weight that had been on her shoulders since August, since Robards had called her into his office and assigned her to the Melissa Cooper disappearance, intensify. Swallowing, she moved towards the door, only to be interrupted again – this time, by a rather harrowed-looking fellow auror who rapped on the glass door.

Robards looked up, startled. "What?" he barked.

The auror opened the door and leaned through the crack, pushing his glasses up his nose with one hand. "Sorry to disturb you sir, James –" he nodded at Tabitha, who returned the gesture, "-but it couldn't wait."

"I repeat," said Robards, in a bored tone, "– what?"

Tabitha James was not one to believe in luck. She laughed at aurors who said that they had solved their cases thanks to a "lucky turn of fortune", or had failed because they were "down on their luck". It implied that they themselves were blameless, that their successes or failures were not brought about by their own clever or senseless actions. Luck was a simply an excuse, evoked to avoid accountability and the consequences that came with it.

But, looking back, even she had to admit that, in a case with few leads and even fewer pieces of evidence, the events that were about to transpire were _extremely_ lucky.

"There's been a break-in at the Dursley's, sir," said Harry Potter. "They've requested that we investigate."

.oOo.

 _II: The Search_

" _Why_ are we here again?" moaned Alfie Hayes, slumping down the nearest wooden chair. It was early on a Saturday morning – Teddy and Alfie had been the first to wake in their dormitory and had reluctantly dressed and dragged their feet down the corridor, up the stairs, and to the library, where they had met Ella.

"Because," said the Ravenclaw, who both looked and acted as if she'd been up for hours, "you're a good friend."

"Oh. Yes. Right."

"We're always here for you," said Teddy, stifling a yawn, "even if it does mean waking up _far_ earlier than should be legal on a weekend."

Ella rolled her eyes. "You're acting like I asked you to get up at three AM. It's seven. Get a grip."

"But Ella, it's a _weekend_. And it's _cold_."

"Close the window, then."

" _El-la_ , _"_ he whined, dragging out the syllables in her name.

"The quicker you two stop complaining about the weather, the time, and how late you were up last night practicing Quidditch –"

"I didn't say anything!" protested Alfie, mock hurt spreading across his face.

"You were about to! Regardless, the sooner you two zip it, the faster we can get this done, and get down to breakfast."

"I am hungry," admitted Alfie, sheepishly.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Men. Predictable. Teddy, can you close the window? It is actually a little chilly."

"Told you," said Teddy, as he got up and walked around the large oak table. They were in a small room at the back of the library, popular amongst those studying for O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T's. Although Ella could often be found in rooms much like this one pouring over her revision materials, Teddy had never made use of the study rooms, preferring instead to stay in the main library, or in the Common Room. There was something eerie and unsettling about the silence and solitude; at least in the main library, people were always whispering, despite the librarian's protests.

It had snowed the night before, carpeting the Hogwarts grounds in a layer of thick, pearly white. Teddy shut the window, teeth chattering, and returned to his seat. He hoped it warmed up a little before the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. He didn't mind the snow, but after a while, it did get to be a nuisance.

"So," he said, "where do we start?"

"Right." Ella rubbed her hands together and reached for a large tome she had placed in the centre of the table. "It's not that difficult, actually – or at least it shouldn't be." She pulled the book towards them and patted it gingerly. "This is the latest British Wizarding directory. It's basically an address book."

"I didn't know wizards had a directory," said Alfie.

Ella shrugged. "Nobody uses it, because you don't need an address to send mail by owl, but it's…well, I suppose it's useful if you need to reach someone in a hurry and you don't even have the faintest idea where they live. Owls are good, but that doesn't mean they can't use the help."

"So we're going to –"

"Look my mother's sister up in the directory, yes."

"I don't get it," said Alfie. "Why are _we_ here? That's easy enough."

"Yes, well…" Ella dropped her gaze and fiddled with her bracelet. "I…suppose I just didn't want to do it alone."

"Which is fair enough," said Teddy pointedly, giving Alfie a look.

"I just… I don't know why my mother's never told me about her sister…my _aunt._ She was so forthcoming about Mandira when I asked – I mean, okay, forthcoming might not be the _best_ word, but she told me what happened. And then when I asked about her sister…." She shuddered and Teddy impulsively reached out and rubbed her hand soothingly. She gave him a small smile before continuing: "She completely changed. She didn't want to talk about it, and I don't know why. I don't even know if I should be doing this. It feels like a betrayal."

"Hey," said Teddy, reassuringly. "Whatever you decide, whatever you want to do. We're here. We'll stand by you."

"I just…don't know if this is the right thing to do."

Teddy opened his mouth to tell her that it was her decision, but Alfie spoke first, so softly that Teddy couldn't be quite sure whether or not he was imagining it: "Find the address. We're here now, we're with you. Find it. Then it's your decision whether or not you want to reach out to her."

There was a moment of silence. Ella looked up and met Alfie's gaze and the two of them stared at each other, completely silent, completely still. Teddy withdrew slightly, noticing that they seemed to be having a wordless conversation that only they were able to decipher. It made him feel strange – almost left out – but he pushed his emotions aside, ignoring the swirling feeling in his stomach. This wasn't about him. This was about Ella and what she needed.

At last, Ella broke eye contact and returned to the book, running her hands over the leatherbound spine. "Right," she said, shakily. "Let's do this."

With a single swift motion, she opened the book. The cover thudded against the table. Ella's fingers moved across the pages carefully, her brows furrowed with concentration as she turned, and turned and turned. Neither Teddy nor Alfie made a noise; all they could hear was the flutter of parchment, the sound of Ella's shallow, careful breathing and the chirps of robins outside the library window.

"Tiwari," whispered Ella at last, her index finger coming to a stop midway down the page. Teddy scrambled up at this, as did Alfie, peering over her shoulder in an attempt to make out the black ink etched into the tawny parchment. There she was – Tiwari, Radhika – and underneath, an address was printed in round, perfect letters.

He had to read it twice to ensure he wasn't making a mistake, wasn't accidentally attributing someone else's address to her. Alfie was similarly taken aback.

"You mean she's been this close all along?" he breathed. "Ella, you could've seen her on the street!"

Teddy couldn't make out Ella's expression, but she was sitting very still, her finger still next to Radhika Tiwari's name.

"Hogsmeade," she said softly. "Hogsmeade."

 _.oOo._

 _III: Meet the Dursleys_

 _(first)_

"Go," commanded Robards. "Tiwari can wait. You might get something useful out of this."

She took a deep breath to calm herself. There was no point in fighting – she hated that visiting Mandira had taken a sudden backseat, but she supposed it was justified.

"Well? Why are you still in my office?"

Impulsively: "I want Potter to come with me."

"You _what_?" Robards started, surprise etched on his face.

"Well, I can't exactly take Munroe, can I?" she hissed in response. "Potter knows the parents – they called him, they trust him. He'll be useful."

The Head Auror's lips drew into a thin line as he surveyed her carefully. She stared him down unflinchingly. "Fine," he said at last, through gritted teeth. "Take him. But tell him if he doesn't have his report on the Birmingham raid on my desk by tomorrow, he'll…"

She never heard what he said. She was out of his office instantly.

 _(second)_

The sun was crowning over the horizon as Tabitha James and Harry Potter Apparated into a silent side street a few blocks away from the Dursleys' flat in Knightsbridge. Its' rays bounced off the gleaming white facades of the converted Victorian houses that lined the streets, illuminating them in shades of red, gold and orange. As they approached the Dursley's, signs of life became more apparent: muggle men and women dressed in suits and talking hurriedly into mobile telephones climbed into black, tinted cars; children in plaid dragged their feet to school; tiny, fluffy dogs were trotting along next to their owners on their morning walks. A cross-section of upper-class city life.

"So," she said casually, turning her head to face Harry, "how did your cousin come to live here?"

"Ah," laughed Harry. "He married rich."

"No kidding." She glanced at the cars lining the street: her knowledge of muggle vehicles wasn't extensive, but she knew enough to know that just one of these cost far more than she made in a year.

"My uncle didn't approve at first."

Tabitha snorted. "He didn't approve of his son marrying rich? How humble of him."

"No, no," Harry shook his head. "He approved of the money – of course he did. But before he knew about the money, he didn't approve of Leila – Dudley's wife."

"Why?" the question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. The answer was evident almost instantly: she remembered meeting Leila following Arlington's disappearance, and she remembered everything Harry had told her about his aunt and uncle, their snooty smugness, their prejudicial ways. It wasn't too much of stretch to imagine why they had objected to Leila. She knew people like that – she met them on the streets, in muggle pubs, even inside the Ministry. One look at Tabitha, and their entire demeanour changed, like she was somehow beneath them.

Harry broke eye contact and stared ahead, as if considering his next words carefully. "They didn't like the colour of her skin," he said at last, reaching up to tighten his scarf.

"Of course," Tabitha murmured. And then, again, before she could censor herself: "They wouldn't like me very much."

The moment the words left her lips, she wondered why she had said them. It was a alien moment of vulnerability, for she _didn't_ open up, not normally. And yet somehow, she felt at ease around Harry. She didn't like labelling things, but she supposed if she had to, she would consider him a friend. They had been in the same auror intake, and though he had palled around with Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom while she had mostly preferred her own company, he had been friendly and kind. They'd worked together on missions and gone out for drinks after. She had been to his house and had dinner with his family. All things that friends did.

"Hey," Harry said, stopping suddenly and meeting her gaze again, his face completely straight, "the Dursley's don't like anyone. Dudley's not like that, not anymore. Leila's not like that – she _hates_ her in-laws, in fact we get along well because of it. So don't, not even for a _second_ –"

"I know," said Tabitha brusquely, cutting him off. She reached up to massage her temples, and took a deep breath in, letting the crisp winter air wash over her. "I know. Let's just go. We have a job to do."

 _(third)_

Leila Dursley was beautiful – there was no question about it. She possessed the kind of beauty that you might only see once, at a bus stop or a train station, but that would leave a fleeting, haunting impression that lasted a lifetime. Her dark hair was straightened, like Tabitha's, but unlike Tabitha, she had cut it just below her shoulders. She had large, doe-like eyes that accentuated the softness of her face and deep brown skin. But what truly made her extraordinary was the way she carried herself: with a combination of grace and confidence. It was a wonder, thought Tabitha, as she sat on the cream sofa in the Dursley's living room, that she had fallen for the not-particularly-attractive Dudley.

"We're sorry to trouble you like this," she said, handing Tabitha and Harry each a china cup filled with tea, before sitting down opposite them and next to her husband. "I promise you, it wasn't just an excuse to see Harry again." There was a twinkle in her eye that Tabitha admired – it wasn't easy to have a sense of humour when your only child was missing.

"I'm flattered," replied Harry, smiling at Leila.

"You don't visit nearly often enough. Dudley and I were saying only yesterday that it would be lovely to have you and Ginny over sometime for dinner, weren't we, Dud?"

Dudley nodded in assent. Tabitha couldn't help but notice that a feeling of wariness existed between the two cousins. Harry and Leila were relaxed with one another, easygoing, almost, but Harry and Dudley…she knew that Harry hadn't had an easy childhood by any means and that Dudley had contributed to that. He'd never said anything against his cousin, but she wondered if he'd ever forgiven him – if he ever could.

There was silence; they each took a sip of their tea, and Dudley bit into a biscuit. "Has there been any progress?" he asked, after swallowing. "On Arlington?"

Harry looked at Tabitha. "Some," she said cautiously. "We're…following some pretty interesting leads." If Mandira Tiwari could be called interesting – her conversation with Robards echoed in her head and she remembered that despite everything, she did not have strong evidence connecting Mandira to the kidnappings.

Dudley's head drooped. "You can't tell us anything more?"

She felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. "I'm sorry." It came out as barely more than a whisper.

"We're trying our hardest," said Harry, more cheerfully. "These leads Tabitha's talking about – they're really very promising. We're confident that we'll locate Arlington soon."

She did her best to maintain a straight face, while silently cursing Harry. She knew that he was trying to make the Dursleys feel better but to be _so_ upbeat about something he knew nothing about? It was giving them false hope. She watched Leila take her husband's hand reassuringly, watched them give each other small smiles, and felt her own heart sink below her rib cage into the pits of her stomach.

 _Don't get attached_.

"This break-in," she said abruptly, withdrawing a quill and piece of parchment from her handbag, "when did you discover it?"

Leila glanced at Dudley before responding. "This morning, around 7AM. I went into Arlington's room to draw the curtains. The window had been shattered."

"And has anything been taken?"

Leila hesitated. "Nothing valuable."

"But?"

"His files," said Dudley. "Some of his files were missing."

His _files_? What ten-year-old had _files_? "What was in these files?"

Dudley shrugged. "Stories. Arlington loves to write – about everything. Animals, school…even magic."

Tabitha glanced at Harry. "He didn't know about –"

"He thought Harry was completely normal," Dudley cut in. "He thought he worked for the government. Unless – " He regarded Harry suspiciously.

"I didn't tell him, if that's what you're asking," said Harry, calmly.

"Are you sure? Because it's –"

"Dudley," Leila warned.

"It's fine," said Harry. "I didn't tell him, Dudley. He's your son. You make the decisions."

There was an awkward silence. "Well, he probably knows now," said Leila at last. "That's going to be a fun conversation to have when he's home."

 _When_. Not if. When.

Her confidence filled Tabitha with dread, and a sudden feeling of urgency. She stood up, placing her tea on the side table next to her. "Would you mind if we take a look around?"

"Of course," Leila began to get up, but Tabitha cut her off with an apologetic yet firm smile.

"Just Harry and I."

 _(fourth)_

"Why would they take his files?" muttered Tabitha as they turned down the corridor that led to Arlington's room. "What could _possibly_ be there?"

Harry shrugged. "I've never seen them. He's read his stories to me before, and they're good, but there's nothing in them. Even the ones about magic – it was all muggle stuff, myths. Nothing that indicated he knew about us, about what it was really like."

They reached the door and Tabitha turned to Harry. "Right. You follow standard break-in investigative procedure. Breakage patterns, what they went through, so on and so forth."

"And you?"

She bit her lip. "I'm just going to have a look around."

It was easy to miss – so easy, in fact, that she almost did. If she hadn't been looking down at that precise moment, she would not have seen the way the light reflected off it, highlighting the textural and spectral discrepancy between it and its' surroundings. She knelt down to investigate further.

A sliver of wood was embedded in the carpet. It was dark brown and shiny, unlike the white, slightly distressed wood that lined the windows and made up the furniture. In fact, it looked nothing like anything else in the room. She reached out and traced the bottom of the wood with her finger, her skin bumping against the curves and the ridges. Carving.

"Potter," she called. "Come see this."

Harry walked over from the windowsill, and came towards her. Kneeling beside her, he examined the fragment visually, not daring to pick it up.

"What do you think it is?" Tabitha asked.

He glanced around. "I'd say…can I touch it?"

She nodded and he reached out and felt the bottom, just as she had. He looked at her with surprise. "A wand fragment?"

Confirmation. Her anticipation tightened. "That'd be my guess, yeah. We'd have to get it back to the Ministry to know for sure, but –"

"But how does a wand break like that?" he interrupted. "There's no evidence of a fight, no evidence that someone attempted to curse the intruder. There was no one here to curse the intruder. For this –" he gestured at the fragment "- to have happened, the wand would've had to be –"

"Damaged previously," she interrupted, realisation dawning. "It would have had to be damaged previously, not used much after the damage occurred and broken now, following the strain of use." Words flew back to her – she remembered the files she had perused incessantly, looking for something, anything. Her eyes widened in shock and she turned to Harry, her face lit up with the excitement of making a link. "Tiwari's wand was damaged following the explosion."

"What? _Mandira_ Tiwari?"

Tabitha nodded. "She's a suspect."

"She's in Azkaban!"

"Never mind," the auror shook her head dismissively, not wanting to explain everything now, not when she had _finally_ , possibly found a connection. "We need to get back to the Ministry. Now."

 _(fifth)_

"It's a wand fragment," said the expert, a tall, balding man who had introduced himself as 'Blackwell', no first name given. Harry and Tabitha watched him as he took the splinter of wood and examined it closely, wordlessly testing it using all manner of spells that they did not recognise.

They were in a small office on Level 3 of the Ministry, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Robards had referred them to a working group of wand experts: a handful of wizards and witches trained in wand-making and wand-research, and well-versed in identifying wands, detecting whether they had been tampered with, and determining how they had broken.

"Can you tell us more?" asked Tabitha, trying her best not to sound overly demanding.

"It's from just above the base of the wand – you can see the embossing ever so slightly. It's fine work. Probably Ollivander's." A throaty chuckle. "Every country likes to boast that their wandmaker is the finest in the world, but I think we English really can stake a claim to that title. You won't find a wand better than one made by Ollivander, no –"

Tabitha cleared her throat impatiently. "Can you tell how it broke? Or definitively determine who it belonged to?"

"I'll need more time," said Blackwell. "It's a small fragment. I'd say it likely broke due to strain following previous damage, but I'll need to run further analyses to confirm it. As for who it belonged to – well, that's going to take a while."

"Can't you just identify the wand properties and cross-reference them with the register?" asked Harry.

Blackwell chuckled again – it was an irritating sound, mused Tabitha, full of both mirth and derisiveness. She hated experts. They always thought that they were better than everyone else.

"You Aurors. You always think everything's so easy. Things take _time_. If I had the full wand, Mr. Potter, yes, I could cross-reference it with the register, but this –" he gestured to the fragment, "this is barely three centimetres."

He was exaggerating, Tabitha thought. It was at least five.

"I'll need to run tests to determine the original length of the wand, and the core. Both involve _highly_ complicated magic – charms, potions, the works. Wandlore is not as simple as you people seem to think it is."

 _You people_. Spoken with the true disdain of someone who thought himself above the law.

"So how long?" asked Tabitha. "A week? Ten days?"

"Oh no," he shook his head. "Six."

"Six what? Six days?"

"Six weeks."

" _What_?" Her eyes nearly jumped out of her head. Harry put a hand on her arm to calm her but she jerked away. She didn't need restraining.

Blackwell eyed her suspiciously. "It would be three months, actually," he said coolly, "but Head Auror Robards is having me expedite this."

"And you can't expedite it any further?" Harry asked gently, before Tabitha could exclaim that six weeks didn't feel very expedited. "Sir?"

"If you want it faster, I'll need more of the wand."

Harry sighed. "This is all we have."

The expert shrugged. "Then six weeks it is. It takes at least five weeks for one of the potions to brew, and another week for some of the tests to be conducted accurately after the wand has been immersed in the potion. It can actually take up to seven weeks at the minimum – " he eyed Tabitha who glared back " – but I'll do my best."

"You'd better," Tabitha muttered softly between gritted teeth.

Blackwell raised his (greasy, uncombed, overgrown) eyebrows. "What was that?"

"Nothing," said Harry, sharply, before continuing, in a softer voice: "Thank you, sir. We appreciate it."

He nodded in response. "I'll keep you updated."

 _(sixth)_

"Six weeks," Tabitha said grumpily, as they left Blackwell's office, and headed for the lift. "Six weeks for confirmation that it's her wand."

"You really think its Tiwari?" asked Harry in a hushed tone.

Tabitha reached up to massage her temples, attempting to ward off an oncoming headache. "She's the best lead we've got."

Harry paused as they reached the lift and turned to Tabitha. "I'm going to ask Robards to transfer me onto this case."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've finished with the Birmingham raids," he continued, keeping a wary eye out to ensure that no one was around, "and honestly? This is the most important case we're currently dealing with."

She shook her head. "You won't be allowed. You're too caught up in it. Personally."

He shrugged. "I'll try my luck. A fresh pair of eyes won't hurt – you and Munroe must be sick of all this." Tabitha smiled wanely – although Harry knew Mandira Tiwari was a person of interest, he definitely did not know why, nor that Angus Munroe was under suspicion.

"He won't agree. Not if you ask."

"True. But if _you_ ask, he will. He always does." Pause. "What do you say?"

She had to admit, new eyes could be useful. Potter was a reasonable auror: smart, sharp, resourceful. It would certainly help to have a partner who she could trust. Munroe knew so little about the direction the case was going in for obvious reasons that she felt almost as if she was working alone. She wanted someone to bounce ideas of, someone who could fill in the gaps in her theories. Maybe Potter was that person.

The lift arrived and they boarded it, standing next to one another in complete silence as the doors closed. It was only once they opened again and they stepped out that Tabitha responded.

"I'll ask him. I can't guarantee he'll say yes, but I'll ask him."

She hoped she was making the right decision.

 _.oOo._

 _IV: Detention_

Victoire Weasley did not regret attacking Terence Gates in the corridor before Christmas, but she sure did wish she had been smarter about it.

 _Why,_ she asked herself, as she attempted to remove a rather persistent, greasy smudge from the golden surface of a Special Award for Services to the School, _did she have to curse him?_ She could've punched him. She could've stuck her wand up his nose. _Anything_ non-magical would've got the point across just as well, and wouldn't have landed her detention for using magic in the corridors. And then she wouldn't be spending her Saturday evening in the trophy room with Terence Gates.

The blonde _prat_ seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, too. Looking up from his trophy – which she glumly realised was spotless and shining – he smirked at her: "Regretting your decision?"

"To put you in your place?" the witch retorted without looking up – she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "Definitely not. You deserved it."

He shrugged. "I was only being honest."

"Like Circe you were," Victoire muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

She whirled on him, gripping the trophy so tightly that the colour drained out of her knuckles. "You weren't being honest. You were being a git. All the things you said – about me, about Alfie, about Riley, about Teddy's parents, none of them were true. You were simply being an utter prig."

There was a moment of silence, and she searched his face for some, _any_ sign of emotion, something that would suggest she'd gotten through to him. She wanted to scream when instead of admitting fault, he smirked again – that irritating, _frustrating_ , stupid smirk – and returned to his work.

"What?" she said, incredulously. "That's _it_?"

"What do you want me to say, Weasley? That I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, well, that would be a start."

"Not going to happen."

 _For Merlin's sake_. "You know, I don't understand you."

"Join the queue."

"No," reiterated the blonde, adjusting her position so she was sitting on her knees and looking straight at Terence, who continued to polish his trophy diligently, "no, _I_ don't understand _you_ at all. You've been saying the same things to Teddy over and over since you both started at Hogwarts, and why? For what reason? He's never done anything to you – anything unprovoked, that is. Why can't you just get over yourself and…and stop? Are you that much of a…a…. _prat_?"

Terence slowed, dragging the rag over the golden trophy surface with less and less force until it seemed like he wasn't trying at all. Victoire watched him, waiting. "Well?" she prompted.

She expected a witty remark, a smirk, an arrogant retort. And yet when he turned to her, she was taken aback by the expression that lined his face – his mouth was set into a line and his eyes lacked their usual glimmer. "Weasley," he began, "do you actually know me?"

Victoire blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Do you know me?" he repeated. "Do you know _anything_ about me? Have you even bothered to ask? Or have you always assumed that I'm an self-obsessed, arrogant idiot?"

"Well, you've never given me reason to believe otherwise," she said defensively, annoyed at his attempt to transfer the blame onto her. It wasn't her fault. Not really, it least.

He shook his head. "You think you're so morally righteous – you and all your friends. You've never even considered why…"

"Why you act the way you do?" Victoire folded her arms. "Okay. Fine. Why do you?"

The wizard didn't meet her gaze. "It's complicated."

"Oh, it's _complicated_?" she scoffed. "I should've known."

"Weasley –"

"No!" she exclaimed. "Don't you 'Weasley' me. This isn't _about_ me, Gates. You're making up excuses." He shifted uncomfortably, but she kept going. "You know what? I don't care what your so-called reason – if you even have one – is. There is _no reason_ for talking to my friends the way you did."

"Fine." He threw up his hands. "You're not willing to listen."

" _I'm_ not willing to listen? You're not exactly saying much."

"I'm saying plenty!" he snapped back. "You're just too stuck in your ways to hear it. You'll never believe me because Lupin's convinced I'm awful, and you'll never, ever go against him."

Victoire's mouth dropped slightly, but she shut her jaw quickly in an attempt to mask her surprise. She wasn't quite fast enough. Terence scoffed and shook his head, his eyes rolling derisively. "I knew it," he muttered.

"Knew what?"

He couldn't know. She barely knew, and she refused to admit it. How could he _possibly_ know why she lay awake at night, her mind too active to be consumed by sleep? He couldn't know how her stomach stirred whenever she saw a flash of turquoise, when she saw that same, familiar smile that had been there, beside her, for nearly her whole life. He simply couldn't know. He must be talking about something else.

"Forget it."

"Knew _what_?" she demanded.

"If you don't know what I'm talking about, you're more thick than I thought. It's _obvious_ , Weasley."

She swallowed and turned away. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're just…mad that I got onto the Quidditch team instead of you and that you lost that _stupid_ bet. You should have known that I wouldn't go out with you, even if you won. You're mad, that's all, and you're…you're making things up."

At this, Terence laughed – a jeering, mocking sound that bounced off the polished, golden surfaces and resounded around the trophy room. "Wake up, Weasley. None of this is my imagination. Wake up, and see what's right in front of you."

 _.oOo._

 _V: Assignment_

"You're on the case."

Harry Potter looked up from his desk in shock to see Tabitha James standing next to him. She had just exited Robards' office, where she had been stationed for the better part of the hour, as the sun set over the peaks and troughs of the London skyline.

He didn't have a chance to reply. Angus Munroe, whose desk was adjacent to his own, wheeled his chair backwards and stared at Tabitha, confused. "Our case?"

"Yup."

"The kidnappings?"

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "What other case do we have, Angus?"

"Robards agreed?" said Harry, surprised.

She nodded grimly. "Took some persuasion."

"Do I want to know what you said?"

"Not particularly." Her gaze flitted to the face of her watch. "It's getting late. Come back to mine, I'll catch you up on the case over a drink."

"I'll come," said Munroe, automatically.

Tabitha's eyes flicked to him and Harry noticed something odd in her gaze – he couldn't be sure whether it was affection or distrust. A second later, it was gone; he wondered whether he had been imagining it.

"That's alright," said Tabitha. "You should finish up the paperwork – Robards wants it by tomorrow. I can catch Potter up on my own. I'll see you later."

Their eye contact held for a moment more than was necessary. Harry wasn't the best reader of body language, but he could tell that he was missing something, that they seemed to be communicating silently, seamlessly. Funny. He thought Tabitha and Munroe didn't get along, and yet there was something in the way they regarded one another – something that was almost intimate.

"Let's go, Potter," said the witch. Harry scrambled to gather his things, shoving parchment and quill into his satchel, trying not to upend bottles of ink in his haste.

It was only once they had left the Ministry and were safely encased within Tabitha's apartment that she spoke to him, her eyes burning with the passion and urgency he had come to expect from her in matters relating to work: "What I am about to tell you is completely confidential. You may only discuss it with Robards, or myself."

"What about Munroe?" he asked, confused.

She shook her head, her lips twisting into an expression that was half smile, half grimace. "Definitely not Munroe."

 **II: Second Saturday**

 _VI: The Rescue_

(six days earlier)

 _Dear Ms Tiwari,_

 _Hi. I don't know how to start this letter – you probably have no idea who I am, or why I'm writing to you, so to spare you from reading pointless exposition, I'll get straight to it: I'm Ella Anderson. Your niece._

 _Your sister, Rhea Anderson (nee Tiwari) is my mother. I only recently found out you existed, and – well, this might sound quite sudden – but I was wondering if I might be able to come and meet you? I've never met anyone from mum's family before, and it would be quite nice to meet my aunt! I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and we have a Hogsmeade outing scheduled for next week. If it suits you, I would love to meet._

 _I look forward to hearing from you,_

 _Ella_

 _PS: If you could perhaps not tell my mother about this letter, that would be great. Thank you._

(five days earlier)

 _Darling Ella,_

 _How lovely to hear from you at last! I had given up hope on ever meeting Rhea's daughter, although I have followed your progress from afar. I would love to have you over for tea – how does this Saturday at three sound?_

 _See you then,_

 _Radhika masi_

 _PS: You have my word - this will be our little secret_

(the present)

"Am I doing the right thing?"

A murmur, more to herself than anyone else. Teddy and Alfie watched her as she stared at the street sign, debating her options. The watch on her wrist read two fifty-five; the leather of the strap cut into her skin, leaving faint red marks near the edges. She could turn down the street, find house number fifty-four, and knock on the door, or she could turn back towards comfort.

It was completely up to her. She could seek knowledge, or she could revel in ignorance.

She knew what she had to do.

Turning to Teddy and Alfie, she spoke, her voice not sounding like her own: "I'm going to go."

They nodded, and she found herself wondering whether they were surprised, or whether they had known she would go all along. _Knowledge versus ignorance_. A debate that seemed to be at the core of who she was.

"We'll be waiting at the Three Broomsticks," said Teddy, softly. "All evening, if we have to."

"Good luck," said Alfie, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

She smiled at them gratefully. "Time to get some answers."

It was amazing how much she looked like her.

Maybe not physically. Physically, Ella's eyes were more chocolate than coffee, her skin was lighter and her nose was thinner. Physically, Radhika's hair was shorter and straighter, and she didn't wear glasses. But there was something in the way they both carried themselves: a sense of confidence that came from being certain and comfortable in themselves, an air of curiosity and a latent fierceness. These were not women you messed with.

Ella shifted uncomfortably on Radhika's caramel-coloured sofa, absentmindedly reading the titles of the books laid out on the table in front of her. The living room was large – though not as large as Ella's own – and elegantly furnished in neutrals, wood, and glass. It was, for the most part, immaculate: there was no layer of dust coating the covers and spines of books; the ceramic and crystal ornaments that were dotted across surfaces were placed strategically, to accentuate rather than clutter the space; and the air smelled of lemons and crisp linen. Nevertheless, the place was not soulless – it wasn't simply taken from the pages of a home magazine and transposed into reality. Signs of life were clearly evident: a half-read newspaper on the side table, still open to the 'International News' section; a half-full coffee mug; empty parcel wrappings stuffed into a wastebin. She hadn't seen much of Radhika's home, but she liked it.

She liked Radhika, too. The woman – her _aunt_ – had greeted her warmly at the door, enveloping Ella into a tight hug. It hadn't felt like a homecoming like she thought it would. Ella hadn't seen her face and immediately felt a sense of kinship wash over her, nor had she felt instantly connected to her. She'd thought meeting someone she knew she was related to would feel _different_ somehow, but it hadn't, not really. She might share blood with Radhika, but that didn't change the fact that for fifteen years, they hadn't been a part of each other's lives, for reasons that Ella still wasn't clear on. It would take time to adjust.

The older woman entered the room, carrying a tray that held a pot of tea, two mugs and a plate of chocolate-covered biscuits. "I got them from Honeydukes," she said, laying the tray in front of Ella. "I hope you like chocolate."

"I do," Ella smiled warmly.

"Good. Milk and sugar?"

"Sugar please. No milk."

"That's how I take it too." There was silence, except for the delicate clink of metal against china, as Radhika made the tea and handed it to Ella.

"I must admit," said Radhika, settling back on an armchair after making her own cup of tea, "I'm rather curious – how _did_ you find me?"

Ella had been expecting this, and reeled off a prepared answer. "I found a family tree hidden away in our library. You were on it – obviously – and I was confused, because I didn't even know Mum had a sister." A pause, heavy and languorous. "I…um…asked her about you, and she wasn't exactly… forthcoming. I figured…"

"You'd contact me yourself," Radhika murmured, her eyes dropping to the untouched, swirling contents of her teacup. There was a moment of silence, and Ella bit into a biscuit to fill it, letting the rich chocolate melt on her tongue.

"Why didn't –" she broke off, unsure of how best to phrase her next words. "I mean, why don't you – why doesn't my mother…." With each failed sentence, her cheeks coloured.

"It's alright," said Radhika soothingly, her eyes soft. "I would ask the same thing. You want to know why your mother kept me a secret."

Ella nodded, the tip of her tongue tracing the bottom edge of her upper lip.

"Well," began the elder, shifting a lock of hair behind her year and placing her teacup on the table in front of her, "I suppose you could describe the situation as 'complicated'. I'm sure you're aware of your mother's…condition."

An odd euphemism, but she nodded regardless, and Radhika continued.

"We come from a very conservative family – Pureblood, somewhat stuck in the old ways. Finding out your mother was a Squib was a shock to the system for all of us, and that was cemented when I got my Hogwarts letter and she didn't. We both went off to different schools – her to a muggle boarding school, me to Hogwarts, and things just…changed. I felt like I couldn't talk about magic around her, like I couldn't bring friends home because then they'd find out about my strange little sister." She smiled ruefully, glancing at her hands. "I'm not proud of it now, but I was a headstrong girl as a teenager. I didn't realise how important family was – how important your mother was to me. Instead, she was a source of anger. Discontent. We would fight continuously, and it got to a point where we stopped speaking to one another: we lived in the same house, but led completely separate lives. And our mother – she never accepted Rhea, not completely. She always took my side, and that hurt Rhea." She paused for a moment and when she spoke again, her voice did not have the dreamy undertones of recollection; instead, she addressed Ella directly: "If any of this is making you uncomfortable – I know she's your mother – I can stop."

"No," said Ella quickly. "No, please continue."

Radhika sighed, and for a moment, Ella wondered if she'd wanted her to tell her to stop – to save her from recalling an unpleasant past. But she _needed_ to know. She couldn't explain why, but there was a nervousness rooted in her stomach, and her palms were oddly sweaty. Radhika seemed to notice this. "You're sure?"

Defiantly: "Yes."

"Very well. When I was eighteen, and your mother was seventeen, we had a terrible fight that resulted in her leaving the house. It was the verge of the Second Wizarding War. I had just graduated from Hogwarts and things weren't looking good. There was a lot of fear, and uncertainty. And I…I said some things that she's never forgiven me for." Her shoulders fell and she hung her head. "I'd…rather not repeat them if that's alright."

"That's fine," Ella murmured, despite her curiosity. A relationship broken by words. She wondered what Ashton would have to say to make her want to leave and never turn back.

Nothing sprung to mind.

Radhika looked up at Ella. "I love your mother very much. I always will. And if I could go back and change things…I would. I've tried over the years to reach out to her, to make things right, but she's continuously rebuffed me. Fair enough, I suppose. If our roles were reversed, I don't think I'd want anything to do with me either. But I do want _you_ to know that I've changed. I'm not the person I once was – I like to think I'm much better now. And…I'd like to get to know you."

Her words hung in the air like a question. Ella glanced at Radhika and then quickly back at her teacup, taking a long sip to stall. She could walk out of the house now and never turn back. Or she could continue to sit here, to talk to her mother's estranged sister, to learn more about herself and her family, and all the things her mother had never told her.

Was finding out about the family she didn't know a betrayal of the family she had? Or was it simply legitimate curiosity, information she had a fundamental and undeniable right to?

She swallowed and said, slowly: "I'd like to get to know you, too."

The muscles in Radhika's face relaxed as she broke into a smile. "Excellent! Well – why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Er," Ella took another sip of tea, "Well, I…I go to Hogwarts…obviously. I'm a Ravenclaw –"

"As was I!" Radhika broke in. "I used to think the Sorting hat made a mistake though – I could never figure out the riddles."

Ella grinned. "Everyone has trouble with those sometimes. I was locked out for four hours once after an exam. It was _awful_."

"The number of times that happened to me!"

For a few moments, the air was light with camaraderie as both witches laughed at their shared experiences. Inevitably, though, the atmosphere sobered and Ella found herself fiddling with the delicate gold bracelet on her left wrist, trying to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, feeling that the silence had gone on for too long, "I'm not very good at this."

"It's new territory for both of us."

"You…er, mentioned you'd been checking up on me?" She remembered Radhika's letter suddenly.

"Yes," replied the other, blushing slightly. "I check up on you. You and your brother. It may sound strange, but I do care for you both deeply. Plus, it's a good side project. I tend to get a little _too_ involved in my work sometimes."

Strange wasn't the right word for it, Ella thought, ducking her head somewhat awkwardly. It was natural, but unusual at the same time; she didn't like to think that for fifteen years, someone unknown to her had been keeping an eye on her. But then again, was Radhika really _that_ unknown?

She didn't like thinking about it – not here anyway.

"What is it you do?" asked Ella.

"I'm a lawyer."

"Oh! So you work for the Ministry? That's a long commute."

Radhika laughed. "No, not all lawyers do – a common misconception. I used to, though."

"Why did you leave?"

Radhika was silent, and Ella sipped her tea awkwardly, reprimanding herself. She shouldn't have asked; it might be an awkward subject, she didn't really _know_ Radhika – not yet at least. "Sorry – " she began, but the older woman cut her off with a smile.

"Don't apologise, _pari_."

The use of the intimate nickname almost made her drop her teacup. Radhika seemed to notice. "It was what my parents called your mother too," she said.

Ella nodded weakly, feeling silly. "Right. Of course."

Radhika smiled warmly. "Where were we? Ah, yes. I left the Ministry because I became a lawyer to do good. When I was there, I felt like I was always on the wrong side."

"So you became a defense lawyer?"

"Essentially."

"But –" Ella paused, attempting to formulate her thoughts into a coherent sentence rather than a jumble of words, "surely as a defense lawyer, you represent people you know are guilty? Just as prosecutors argue against people they know are innocent?"

"You raise a good point – a problem I grappled with for years. There was only one solution I could think of and live with. I only represent clients I know are innocent."

This struck Ella as both incredibly moral and impractical. "But how can you possibly know for sure?"

"It's hard," admitted Radhika. "I've been taken in a few times – people can be shockingly conniving. But I investigate, and generally, my investigations lead me to the truth."

A thought, unbidden, suddenly occurred to Ella: her aunt was someone concerned with justice, innocence, and guilt; someone who's career would be underway at the close of the Second War; and someone who might have been involved in either prosecuting or defending suspected death eaters. Surely she would have investigated Mandira Tiwari – just to be certain that her own cousin really was guilty of the crime she was accused of.

She took a moment to frame the question in her mind, playing around with the words. She wanted to sound casual, relaxed even – like it didn't bother her, like it wasn't something _that_ important.

Still, they came out wrong. "Were you – did you ever –" Stopping, she took a deep breath; Radhika tilted her head questioningly. "Were you ever involved in trying Mandira Tiwari?"

Radhika laughed, and Ella was struck how much it sounded like her own: a sharp infectious titter that rose and fell like a tiny boat bobbing on rolling waves. "I was wondering when you'd bring her up. Did Rhea tell you about her?"

"Not until I found out about her on my own and asked."

"Figures. None of us are particularly…proud of her. The answer to your question is no. I wasn't directly involved. But I did do my research." She fell silent. Ella felt as if something had been left unsaid.

"And?" she prompted, hesitantly.

"She was definitely guilty."

She said it with such aplomb that Ella was taken aback. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she chose not to question it further. "Did you know her well?" she asked instead.

Radhika shrugged. "Relatively. We were close growing up, and she was a few years below me at Hogwarts. Different houses, though. She was a Slytherin, and I…well, it was a different time. Houses mattered a lot more back then. I didn't get along with her crowd either. Her best friend, Cecilia Selwyn, was a piece of work." _Cecilia Selwyn_ – the name sounded familiar to Ella, but she couldn't place it exactly. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who put Mandira up to it."

"Was she a death eater?"

Radhika's lips twisted to the side, giving her a look of concentration and confusion. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was – she was always spouting pureblood nonsense in school – but I don't think it was ever proven." She shrugged. "I wouldn't want to indict someone on speculation alone."

Ella nodded. "Fair enough."

"The evidence against Mandira, though," Radhika sighed. "That was more than just speculation."

She stared into the contents of her mug, and, bringing it to her lips, sipped it delicately. Her face contorted into a grimace.

"Tastes like chlorine."

Getting up and moving into the kitchen, she threw its' contents down the sink.

 _(later)_

"It wasn't that bad," said Ella, sliding into the booth at the Three Broomsticks where Alfie and Teddy were waiting expectantly. "She was nice – we got on. She was a Ravenclaw too, and we like similar books."

"Did she tell you about why she doesn't speak to your mum?" asked Alfie.

Ella related an abridged version of the tale. "She didn't go into much detail," she mused. "I guess it was painful for her to think about."

"Understandable," said Teddy. "Do you think you'll see her again?"

"She asked me to come back the next time we have a Hogsmeade visit. I think…" she trailed off; she had been thinking about it all the way from Radhika's house into town, and had reached a decision, but saying it out loud was a commitment of sorts. "I think I will. She's family. I didn't feel like it at first, but at the end…I don't know, when I said goodbye, I couldn't help but think that I didn't want it to _be_ goodbye, at least not permanently. There's so much I can still learn from her." She noticed Teddy and Alfie exchange a glance. "What?"

"Nothing," said Teddy, a little too quickly. She narrowed her eyes at him and he sighed. "We just want you to be happy, Ella."

"We think you should tell your mum," Alfie interjected.

Ella toyed with her bracelet. "Yeah, I was thinking about that too. But whatever happened between her and Radhika sounds…bad. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Neither of the boys looked convinced, but she was too tired to argue her point further. Instead, she changed the subject: "She mentioned Mandira Tiwari."

"Really?" Teddy's interest was piqued.

"Well, I brought her up. She didn't say much – just that the evidence against her was solid, and that she wasn't surprised, based on what she was like as a kid. Apparently she hung around with a bad crowd in Hogwarts."

"Anyone we'd know of?"

Ella shook her head. "The only person she named was someone called Cecilia Selwyn. She wasn't a death eater though."

"The name sounds familiar."

"Yeah, I thought that, too." She rolled the name around on her tongue, trying to place it: "Cecilia Selwyn. _Cecilia_ Selwyn _…_ "

She did not notice Victoire Weasley, who was passing their booth with her arms full of Butterbeer mugs, start and stop suddenly.

"Cecilia Selwyn?" the blonde said, catching all three fifth-years off guard. "What about her?"

Ella glanced at Teddy and Alfie, panicked. "I…er…read the name in a book, and was trying to remember where I'd heard it before."

"That's weird."

"Do you know her?" prompted Teddy.

"Yeah," said Victoire, eyebrows slightly raised. "She's Riley's mum."

 _._ oOo.

 _VII: Board_

They didn't have a chance to talk about it until they were back at Hogwarts. The whole walk up to the castle, there had been a silence amongst them: Ella lost deep in thought, Alfie watching his surroundings blankly, Teddy glancing at his friends worriedly, wondering what everything meant. He _wanted_ to talk, but he knew that they couldn't, not in the open where anyone could overhear them.

It was only once they were safely encased in a library study room, the door closed, that he said what they were all thinking: "Riley's _mum_?"

"Weird, isn't it?" muttered Ella, shaking her head. She was leaning against the window, her arms folded. "Riley's always been so adamant that her aunt and uncle were the only bad seeds."

"What exactly did Radhika say?"

"That Riley's mum – Cecilia – was best friends with Mandira. That they both used to vocally support blood purity." She shook her head. "I mean, I know that it was a different time, and pureblood families were sort of expected to support that view – "

"But that still doesn't make it okay!" said Teddy with a little more anger than intended.

"I know that." Ella looked affronted. "I'm not saying it does. I'm just saying it's weird."

"More importantly," said Teddy with a sigh, pulling out a chair and sitting down, "what does it mean for us, now?"

"What do you mean?" asked Alfie, who had been oddly silent

"Let's not forget how Ella found out about all her relatives in the first place. Mandira Tiwari is a suspect in the kidnappings, only she's in Azkaban, so it would probably be pretty hard for her to pull off the kidnappings by herself." He paused, not wanting to say the next part out loud.

Alfie's eyes widened. "You're not saying –"

"That's exactly what he's saying," sighed Ella.

"No," said Teddy quickly, not wanting to assume the worst of people. "I'm just – well, it's suspicious, that's all."

"I don't think Riley's mum would be behind this, Teddy," said Alfie dubiously.

"Alfie's right," said Ella, shaking her head. "Remember – the kidnappings were probably carried out by someone with access to both the Ministry and Hogwarts. Cecilia might be able to get into the Ministry, but Hogwarts?" She twisted her lips to the side. "I don't think so."

Teddy felt a swirl of guilt; he didn't like jumping to conclusions, and yet that's exactly what he'd done. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologise. It's weird. It's just all so weird."

The three friends stood in silence, each lost in their own train of thought, unsure what any of it meant. It was Ella who spoke up at last: "I don't understand this."

"You and me both," mumbled Alfie.

She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Every time I've asked someone about Mandira – my mum, my aunt – they've all talked about the murders she committed, but neither of them has said _anything_ that makes me think she's behind the kidnapping. So why does Tabitha James?"

"She probably has something we don't," reasoned Teddy.

"I don't know," said Alfie, surprising the others. "She – er – seemed like the sort who was quite quick to form judgements of people."

"Yeah, I got that vibe, too," mused Ella.

"What are you saying?" Teddy folded his arms. "That she's going after Mandira on a wild goose chase?"

"I don't know." She reached up to massage her temples, exasperatedly. "God, I just…I don't know. None of this makes sense, and it's all…why me? Why _my_ mum's cousin? Why _Riley's_ mum? It's just a set of weird coincidences."

"It's not our job to solve this," Alfie reminded her. "We're not the aurors."

"I know, it's just…it feels personal. Oddly so." She let out a long, tired sigh and Teddy's heart went out to her. This was hard on Ella, no matter how much she tried to hide it, and he hated that there was nothing he could do to make it easier for her. She was carrying a heavy emotional load, and he wanted to take it from her, share it out somehow. But the best he could do was be a friendly face, a listening ear.

"I've got to go to Quidditch practice," said Alfie, apologetically. "Macey will have my head if I'm not there on time. But we'll talk about this again soon – okay?"

Ella nodded, and bid him goodbye. "I suppose we should leave too," she said, as the door shut behind him. "Dinner will be on in a moment." She made for the door too, but Teddy stopped her.

"There's something you're not saying."

She looked at him with surprise. "What do you mean?"

There was something there – hidden behind her gaze, something she was trying to mask. "I mean, you're not telling me something. What is it?"

She sighed and broke eye contact, glancing first at the floor, running her tongue over the rim of her upper lip. He kept looking at her, trying to compel her to trust in him. _Five years of friendship_ , he thought. Ever since he'd sat in her compartment in the Hogwarts Express and she'd looked up from the book she was reading. _Talk to me, Ella._

"I feel like I'm being played," she said at last, her voice soft and hesitant.

"By your aunt?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"Then by who?"

She bit her lip and looked up at him. "By someone out there. Someone with a really messed up sense of humour. I just don't know who."

.oOo.

 _VIII: Honour-Bound_

"Azkaban duty, James? Thought you were beyond that."

Tabitha James forced a laugh. The rookie auror smirking at her didn't think twice. Mistake number one. "I'm never beyond helping out a friend."

"Funny, I didn't think you and Castrade were that close."

 _You don't say._ The first time she had spoken to Tilly Castrade had been a few days ago in the break room, when she'd slipped a tiny vial of Sickening Solution into the girl's coffee. The next day, Tilly had called in sick. Tabitha had graciously volunteered to take over her Azkaban night shift. The poor girl needed rest.

She did not confess any of this, however, to the rookie auror – a slight, brown-haired man named Sam Milton, who couldn't be more than twenty-five. Instead, she simply grinned. "It's important to help out your fellow aurors. Team solidarity and all that."

Robards hadn't blinked when she'd volunteered. Potter had been more curious, but had let it go when she refused to offer an explanation. She figured he had an inkling of what she was up to – he was sharp after all. Tabitha _had_ briefly considered confiding in him, but decided against it. She had to do this on her own.

"Right. Not that you have a kidnapping – or three – to solve or anything."

 _Prat_. She rolled her eyes. "I needed a change of scene. Quit it."

Milton obliged. "You ever worked high security before?"

She had, several times, back when she was his age and the prison was full of relics from the Wizarding Wars. The population had remained fairly consistent since: a couple of new additions here and there, and a few losses, thanks to mental and physical disease. Though she hadn't set foot in the ward for more than ten years, it still felt oddly familiar, like returning to an old home or school. It was a good thing.

But to gain Milton's trust, she couldn't be an insufferable know-it-all. Feigning blankness, she looked at him hopefully. "Nope. I'll need your help."

"Of course." His chest puffed up. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. Men. Predictable.

The entire operation was shockingly easy to pull off.

Getting into high security was, theoretically, the difficult part. The aurors had protected the ward with every conceivable method known to wizardkind. Although break-in attempts had, at first, been common, they had lessened across the years – no one had ever made it in.

But once you _were_ in, it was oddly simple. Of course, the aurors guarding it were well-trained, and there were traps and security measures in place that an outsider would find difficult, if not impossible to crack without years and years of training and expert, insider knowledge. But with Tabitha's level of security clearance? It was a piece of cake.

Of course, she thought, as she began to break the protective wards around Mandira's cell – carefully and methodically, the same way they would if they were bringing Mandira out for a trial or a medical emergency – it wasn't exactly safe. To get to this point, she'd had to confund Milton – a little _too_ hard. If any of the prisoners had escape plans, this was potentially the best time: one guard inside a cell, the other opening and closing his palm, fascinated by the patterns the lines on it formed. When she'd left Milton, he'd been trying to convince her that there was a picture of a dog engraved in his skin. Later, she would modify his memory. He wouldn't remember the Confundus charm – he wouldn't remember anything out of the ordinary at all. The night would simply fade into the background of his mind: normal, cookie-cutter, unremarkable.

She removed the last ward and inhaled deeply.

What she was doing was illegal. If she was caught, she would lose her job and be blacklisted from the force for life. She could end up behind bars herself, years of her life gone in a flash because of one reckless move. If she was caught, it would be the end of her dreams of becoming Head Auror.

But she also knew that this was her best lead. If she didn't follow it, she didn't _deserve_ to be Head Auror.

She straightened up, holding the muscles in the small of her back taut and rolling her shoulders back to give her a look of firm determination.

 _Nerves of steel_ , Robards used to say. She had overheard him once, back when she was still in training. _That one's got nerves of steel._

"You can do this," she whispered to herself.

She entered the cell.

The woman sat on the side of the bed. She didn't look like she did in the photos. In the photos, she was young, smiling. Tabitha knew she wasn't old, but there were lines etched deeply into her face. Her hair was limp and straggly; one good brush and it would break. There was no laugh, no sparkle in her eyes, and that, perhaps, was what Tabitha found the most disconcerting. She did not look like a woman who was the mastermind behind a criminal operation. She looked like a woman who had given up.

"Hello, Mandira."

A flicker of recognition flashed in Tiwari's eyes.

They had never met before. Tabitha hadn't even put in her application to the aurors until after Mandira's imprisonment. "You know who I am," the auror said, surprised. "How do you know who I am?"

Silence. Mandira's eyes travelled from Tabitha's head to her toes, surveying her, drinking in every detail. It unsettled her.

"You shouldn't be here," said Mandira, at last. Her voice did not match her face. It wasn't hollow and croaky, like the voices of some prisoners: wasted away thanks to years of disuse and neglect. Instead, it was light, and cut through the air with sharpness and certainty. She sounded almost normal.

Tabitha's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Mandira repeated, her voice slow and foreboding, "you shouldn't be here."

 _She's distracting you_ , said a voice in Tabitha's head. _She's trying to throw you off. You don't have the time for this._ "How do you know who I am?" she repeated, more firmly this time.

The other eyed her. For the first time, Tabitha saw expression light her eyes – a steely determination she wasn't sure she liked. Tabitha returned Mandira's gaze with a fierce stare of her own, not daring to move an inch, ignoring the urge to shuffle her feet and shift her weight. She was not going to reveal anything, and neither, it seemed was Tiwari. The two women stared at each other for the better part of a minute, bearing each other down, daring one another to flinch, to break away, to say _something_. With each passing second, Tabitha could feel a tiny bit of her own determination chip away. She struggled to keep a handle of herself. _What is wrong with me?_

It was Mandira who finally gave in. Dropping her gaze to the panels of imitation wood beneath them, she let out a deep sigh that originated from the back of her throat and echoed in the small space. "I could lie, but I'm not going to. I want you to trust me."

Tabitha scoffed. "Trust you?"

"Yes." Again, Tabitha noted the confidence, the strength in her voice that should not belong to someone who had been locked up for fifteen years. "You think I'm crazy."

"I don't understand why I should _trust_ a convicted murderer."

"'Convicted'." A strange grin spread across Mandira's face, the edges of her mouth curved upwards, her upper lip curling inwards, revealing her perfectly even, square upper teeth. "That's a strange word, don't you think."

"No." Tabitha knew what she was trying to do – she was trying to establish a sort of camaraderie between them. She wasn't going to fall for it.

The other witch seemed to realise this, for she sighed again – more softly, this time. She jerked her chin towards the left corner of the cell and spoke as Tabitha approached it, tentatively. "You're Tabitha James. You're an auror – young, but good at your job." Tabitha knelt down and ran her fingers across the floor. She hit a small, almost imperceptible bump. Slowly, she wedged her nail beneath the bump and gingerly lifted the floorboard up. "You're investigating the kidnappings."

"How did you –" she trailed off, as she extracted a cardboard box from beneath the floor. She could feel Mandira's eyes burning into her back as she lifted the lid, not truly knowing what to expect.

She gasped when she saw what it contained.

 _Daily Prophets_ , organised in date order. There had to be at least fifty of them, all from within the last year. She flicked through them quickly, attempting to ascertain the dates and their contents: there didn't seem to be any pattern, but Mandira had copies of all the major editions – the papers released the day after each kidnapping, the London attacks, each threat.

"You're investigating the kidnappings," Mandira repeated, softly. There was a pause, and then: "You think I did it."

Tabitha looked up from the box. The convict sat perfectly still on her bed, her pale, sallow hands folded on her lap. She wore no rings or bracelets – they would have been taken from her when she was imprisoned. Nothing to fiddle with. Nothing to indicate nervousness, or stress. In fact, Tabitha noted, she seemed shockingly calm.

Tabitha prided herself on reading people, but there was something off about Mandira Tiwari, something she couldn't put her finger on. Perhaps she simply wasn't used to people who had lived in practical isolation for fifteen years – but she had a nagging feeling in her gut that it was more than just that. She had been expecting a cookie-cutter prisoner – someone villainous, angry and defiant. But Mandira Tiwari was _smart_. Her imprisonment hadn't dulled her intelligence – she was intuitive, and sharp. She picked up things that even aurors who had passed their three years of training with flying colours would miss.

She was not someone to be underestimated.

"What do you know about the kidnappings?" the auror asked, placing the box on the floor and folding her arms.

"Nothing, apart from what I've read in the newspapers."

Clever.

Even more clever – the way she changed the subject: "Why do you think I did it?"

Tabitha shrugged. "Why do you think I think you did it?" The question sounded ridiculous, but there was no better way of phrasing it.

The other witch laughed, high and floaty, like a child who didn't have a care in the world. Not what you would expect from a woman like Tiwari, who had murdered twenty muggles in cold blood. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Oh, really?"

"Aurors like you don't just pay prisoners like me personal visits. Unless your job is more lonely than I thought."

"Ha."

"You," said Mandira thoughtfully, cocking her head to one side, "you're visiting me at night. You weren't announced by another Ministry official – usually when an auror comes asking questions, they're always accompanied by someone more senior than them. The head auror, even the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in some cases. I've never seen one come alone."

"My bosses trust me."

"Maybe so, but protocol is protocol. I've never known the Ministry to break protocol."

"You've been gone for fifteen years."

A wayward smile. "It takes a lot longer than that to change bureaucracy. You're not here legally. Your visitation permit was declined. They probably didn't think you had enough evidence, because there's no way you could." She leaned forward, so her nose was almost level with Tabitha's and she was staring right into her eyes. They were no longer blank and soulless, like they had been when Tabitha had entered; they were swirling, and sharp. The auror could practically see the cogs in Mandira's brain springing to life, whirring as she either reeled off a previously concocted story, previously rehearsed words, or generated new ones. She wished she'd stood up; at least then she'd have a height advantage. "I don't have anything to do with the kidnappings."

Tabitha changed the subject abruptly. She needed something that was out of the public eye, something Mandira wouldn't expect. "Who has your wand?"

This did surprise the other – at least she _thought_ she saw a flicker of surprise pass through the witch's eyes. "My wand?"

"Yes." It took an effort not to sound smug.

"My wand is in Ministry possession." Genuine puzzlement coloured Mandira's face. "I…I've not seen it since they took it away from me when I was arrested."

"No one else could have it?"

"I…" the witch faltered. "It's possible. Like you said, I've not been out in fifteen years. But the last I saw it, it was in Ministry possession."

Tabitha was experienced enough in witness interrogation to know when a line of questioning wasn't getting anywhere. "How did you get the _Daily Prophet_? Prisoners aren't entitled to news."

Shrug. "It's natural enough to want to know what's going on outside of these four walls."

Again with the distraction. "I didn't ask _why_ you wanted the newspaper. I asked how."

Silence. Mandira's hand found its way to her upper lip and she began to pick at the skin in the middle, all while keeping her gaze firmly on Tabitha. The auror glanced down and, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, stood up and leaned back against the wall, folding her arms. The concrete was like ice against her back.

Moments passed; Mandira did not flinch. Tabitha wondered whether her imprisonment had driven her insane, but she did not act like an insane person. She was completely and utterly lucid – _too_ lucid, almost.

"You know."

Unable to hide her shock: "What?"

"You know." It was not a question, nor was it a throwaway comment. It was calculated, thought through. _You_ know.

Tabitha James prided herself on being unreadable. She loved seeing witnesses and suspects scramble over themselves as they tried to figure out whether they were saying the right thing or incriminating themselves further. She loved watching her fellow aurors try in vain to determine whether she approved of them or disliked them. And yet this woman, this _murderer_ , who she'd never met before could simply look at her and could understand her thought process with such fine precision.

It was unheard of. It made her stomach heave and her head feel numb.

She had two options: she could admit what she knew and lose her advantage. Mandira would tell Munroe that Tabitha suspected him, giving him enough time to get rid of any evidence, to move the children. But if she didn't admit anything, she and Mandira would go around in circles until one of them tired. And Tabitha simply did not have the time. Her Confundus Charm could wear off at any minute, and she needed answers.

This needed to have been worth it.

She sighed, and reluctantly said: "Angus."

If Mandira was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, she stayed silent, as Tabitha had expected. If she admitted it, she would incriminate Munroe.

"Listen," said Tabitha, attempting to mask her impatience, "I know you and Mun – Angus are friends, and I know he's been communicating with you. I have the letters. I don't know how you've been getting them in and out, but there's no point in denying that you're in contact. Look." She reached into the pocket of her robes and drew out the letter she had found in Munroe's apartment, which she gave to Mandira. Taking it with shaking hands, the witch scanned it, her lips drawing into a thin, pink line. "That's your handwriting – your signature. There's no point in denying it."

"Alright," said Mandira, folding the parchment delicately. "But it isn't what you think."

"What do I think?"

"You think that I've been masterminding the kidnappings. I'm guessing you think Angus is the one who's been carrying them out – logical, I suppose, given that the string of events that have occurred required information from both the Ministry and Hogwarts. Information that Angus would've had access to."

That wasn't information that had been shared with the public. "How do you know that?"

Mandira shrugged. "Lots of time to think in here."

Regardless, it was suspicious – to immediately leap to a conclusion that had taken Tabitha months? Unlikely, no matter how smart Mandira was.

"You've not got anything tying me directly to the kidnappings, do you?"

Tabitha almost laughed. As if she was going to answer _that_. "If you're not behind them, why are you writing to Angus? I can't think of another reason why you would break the law."

Mandira laughed - this time, it was short and scornful. "What are they going to do? Extend my sentence? I'm in here for life anyway."

"Yes," said Tabitha smugly, "but he isn't. He could lose his job – particularly if he's been using his powers as an auror to stay in contact with you."

Silence. Mandira blinked once. Her fingers interlocked and she swallowed, the lump in her throat visibly bobbing up and down. Tabitha knew she was right.

"It's not what you think," said Mandira at last. Her voice had changed; she no longer held the advantage, and it was audible. There was a note of desperation, pleading – not unlike someone on trial, begging for their life. "I'm innocent. Not just of the kidnappings, but of murder."

"That was your defense at your trial, too. It didn't work."

"It's funny, how little the law cares about the truth sometimes. I didn't kill anyone. Someone framed me, and Angus is trying to help me prove it."

Tabitha arched an eyebrow. "You're innocent?"

"Yes."

"Someone _framed_ you?"

" _Yes_." Strong emphasis, attempting to sound confident and steadfast.

She scoffed, shaking her head. If this is what they had come to, then it really was the end. She was going to get nothing further out of the conversation, but she _could_ go out on a high.

Tabitha James looked Mandira Tiwari straight in the eyes. "That's what all guilty people say."

.oOo.

 _IX: The End_

"We should talk."

Ella Anderson jumped. Somewhere behind her, the grandfather clock softly chimed midnight. She rarely stayed up so late, but sleep had evaded her. Rather than tossing and turning, and disturbing all of her roommates, she had crept downstairs into the deserted Common Room, and had been curled up on a brown leather armchair with a detective novel for the better part of an hour. She hadn't even noticed anyone else come in.

"Sorry," the speaker said sheepishly, rubbing his elbow. "I didn't mean to startle you. But I really think we should –"

"Talk. Yeah." If only it could wait till the morning – but, she supposed, it was better to just get it out of the way. She gestured to the armchair opposite her.

Leonardo Torricelli sat down awkwardly, perching on the edge of the chair, his back rigid, as if pinned to a stake. He interlaced his fingertips and placed his palms on his lap. His formality stood in stark contrast to Ella's relaxedness, and did nothing to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. Instead, Ella felt almost as if Leonardo had come in for an interview.

She broke the silence that had settled between them: "Well?"

When he looked up questioningly, she sighed. "I assume you have something you wanted to talk about?"

His left eyebrow darted upwards. "You don't talk to me anymore."

A guilty feeling settled in her stomach. She shrugged defensively, hugging her elbows closer to her torso.

"And you can't blame it on me," he continued, "because I've tried. I've tried to partner with you in class, but you've always brushed me off. I've tried to talk to you. I even tried to _comfort_ you when you were crying for a reason that _I_ still don't know about, but I bet Teddy and Alfie do –"

 _Teddy and Alfie_? She didn't even make an effort to hide her irritation. "There's no reason to bring them into this."

"Well, I think there is. You spend all your time with them and no time with me."

"They're my best friends."

"And I'm your _boyfriend_. I've not done anything wrong. I apologised for Christmas. I'm sorry that I said what I did. But if you can't handle a simple disagreement –"

"I _can_ handle it."

"Well, it sure doesn't seem like it," snapped Leonardo, taking Ella by the surprise, for she had never known him to raise his voice. "Ever since Christmas, you've not spoken to me properly. You don't even seem like yourself."

"Yeah, well, things have changed."

"How?" A note of pleading coloured his tone and she felt herself soften towards him. "How have things changed? Help me understand, Ella. I just want to understand."

His eyes were like saucers – beseeching, desperate almost. She broke eye contact for it was painful to look at him.

There was an easy way to solve this – she'd entrusted Leo with the secret about her mother, about her family being targeted during the London attacks. She could just as easily tell him about Radhika and Mandira, about how she was struggling to wrap her head around the fact that these complete strangers were bound to her through the scarlet liquid that ran through her veins. It would take a whisper, a quiet conversation in which she confessed everything: the fear, the guilt, the awful, burning anger in her gut that she refused to acknowledge, let alone assign a target to.

Her lips opened, the words forming in her mind. The clench of a muscle and a flick of her tongue were all that were needed to transform her thoughts into vocalisations that would fix this relationship.

Instead, her mouth closed around midnight air, crisp and sweet. She looked back at Leonardo, pushing her emotions into her eyes, letting her guard down, hoping she could read him.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice a cracked half-whisper. "I can't."

"You can't talk to me?"

She shook her head.

"For two people in a relationship, that's awfully strange."

"Well…" She swallowed hard to dislodge the rapidly-forming lump in her throat. "Maybe we shouldn't be in a relationship."

It was as if all the candles in the room had been blown out at once. A icy breeze wafted through an open window, swirling through the strands of her hair neglected by her bun. She watched Leo closely, silently begging him to say something, _anything,_ but he seemed incapable of language. The guilt inside her intensified - a dull ache in the pit of her stomach that she didn't think would ever go away.

When he did speak, his words failed to make it better. "I thought you loved me."

She had too. What she had felt for Leo, she had never felt before: a heady passion that had intoxicated her and broken her focus. He gave her butterflies in her stomach, someone to dream about at night, someone to talk about when the conversation turned to relationships and the opposite sex. But he had never consumed her thoughts completely and wholly, she had never felt something deep-seated stir in her when she looked at him. She had never been completely open, completely forthcoming, completely and effortlessly herself around him.

She couldn't meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at the curving, intersecting lines etched on her palms. "I was wrong," she said, softly, speaking more to the floor than to him. "I'm so sorry. I was wrong."

She kept repeating the same thing, over and over, even when he had left, and she was alone in the long, vacuous room, her first heartbreak over before it had even properly begun.

 **PART III: Third Saturday**

 _X: Cat and Mouse_

"You're up early."

The voice – soft, hesitant, yet familiar – startled Teddy Lupin – he had thought he was alone. Looking up from the Herbology textbook on his lap, he smiled. "Hey, Matilda."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

The brunette settled on the armchair opposite him. She was wearing a thin white T-shirt, a Hufflepuff scarf and jeans, her thin mousy hair tied into a ponytail. She glanced at his book and sighed. "I forgot about that."

"The Herbology assignment?" She nodded and he smiled sympathetically. "It's not too bad – it'll only take you half an hour, tops."

"Correction: it takes _you_ half an hour. I suck at Herbology."

"Not true."

She made a sound that was halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "Very true."

"I'll help you if you like," he offered. He didn't enjoy hearing his friends being so self-critical, especially not Matilda.

"That would be lovely."

There was silence for a few moments – not awkward, but comfortable. Matilda adjusted a ring on her left index finger: it was beautiful – silver, with a shiny pink stone set in the centre. "I've not seen that before," he said, gesturing to it. "It's nice."

"Thanks," she smiled. "Giovanna got it for me. Last weekend, in Hogsmeade."

"That's nice of her."

"Yeah, she's nice. I heard you guys had a chat during Quidditch tryouts."

Teddy nodded in affirmation.

"I'm glad she could talk to you," said the brunette. "She – er – doesn't talk about her dad much, at least not to me. I don't think she spoke about it much to Morna or Daisy either."

"How have things been with you guys lately?"

She shrugged. "Fine. The dormitory's a bit icy – Morna and Daisy don't really talk to Gi and I, but that's okay, I'm sort of used to it. Gi's been a really good friend though. Obviously, you and Alfie are great – don't be offended –"

"I'm not."

"But it's nice to have a girl friend too." Someone to back me up in there when Daisy goes off on one of her rants. Not that she's been doing that much lately."

"What, ranting?"

"Yeah." Matilda nodded. "We just don't see very much of her anymore."

This got his interest. "Really? Is she spending more time with Laura or something?"

"No, Laura's got N.E.W.T.s and all those detentions that she's still working off. Daisy's been spending a lot of time with Professor Smith. She's really dedicated to doing well in Potions this year."

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Teddy's lips. "Or she's really dedicated to Professor Smith."

Matilda grinned at this. "Both, I think. Gi says it's hypocritical, given that she went after Bella Watson for spending time with Professor Macmillan."

"I agree," Teddy replied grimly.

"Daisy is as Daisy does. I've long given up on trying to make sense of her." She sighed. "I just…"

"What?" he prompted, gently.

"I don't know." There was a mournful note in her voice – she fiddled with the ring again, twisting it back and forth. "I just wish she…wasn't like this."

Daisy Shipkins had never changed, but Teddy didn't say so. Instead, he let Matilda continue: "She hasn't matured, or grown, or anything. If anything, she's just gotten worse. You know, the reason we all became friends in first year was because she stood up for Morna. She used to stand up for me too." She must have noticed Teddy's scepticism because she smiled and said, "Not often, but she did. I remember."

He nodded. "I believe you."

"The point is more I want to be a good friend to her, but I don't know how."

"Matilda," said Teddy gently, closing his Herbology book and leaning forward, "friendships don't go one way."

"I know," she said, sighing. "My mum says the same thing. Only…this isn't Daisy from last term."

"What do you mean?"

"Daisy was mean last term. Horrible. For no good reason. But this term, something's changed."

This did not clarify things, but he nodded as if he understood.

"I can't put my finger on it, but she's different. It's like she needs a friend."

"She has Morna."

"She needs a more _perceptive_ friend."

Teddy sighed. He knew Matilda's intentions were good, but this wasn't the first time they were having a conversation like this. She always felt bad for Daisy and went back to her, and it never worked out. Things were fine for a week, maybe a month, and then Daisy went back to being her old, horrible self.

"Give her space," he said, softly. "Let her come to you."

Matilda bit her lip. "Do you really think –"

"I do. If she needs help, she'll realise it soon enough and she'll come to you."

"Will she?"

"Yes," he said staunchly.

"I just…I don't think she realises that I can help her."

"Why not?"

"I'm so... I don't know. Timid. Quiet."

"Those aren't _bad_ things," said Teddy emphatically. "And you're not timid. You've stood up to her before. Okay, maybe you're not as confident as Giovanna –" a rueful smile – "but you've got the potential to be."

She paused, gently pulling her upper lip down with her teeth. "It _did_ feel good to stand up to Daisy."

"See?" he laughed.

"You really think I've got the potential to be confident?"

"Definitely." There wasn't even a hint of doubt in his voice, nor in his mind. "You're stronger than you think you are, Matilda. I only wish you knew that."

She nodded slowly. "You're a good friend, Teddy."

"I try to be," he said lightly.

"No, you are. I'm lucky to have you." She surveyed him for a moment longer than was necessary before taking a deep breath in. "So. Herbology. Did you mean it when you said you'll help me?"

"Of _course_ ," he said warmly.

"Really? I mean…" she took another breath, "when are you free?"

"Tomorrow morning? The library?"

She grinned. "Sounds good. I'll see you then."

.oOo.

 _XI: A Call to Arms_

The letter was burning up in her hand.

Not _literally_ , although she wished she could throw it into a fire and watch it go up in flames, the parchment slowly turning black and crumbling until it was no more than a pile of ashes. But it felt scorching, red hot; just as the skin on her palm felt like it was blistering.

She knew, of course, that none of it was real.

Victoire looked at her oddly. "Riley?"

Was she the only one? She didn't think so – others must have gotten it too. Yet as she glanced around the Great Hall, panicked but perceptive, she did not see anyone else staring at a letter in shock. No one else had quick, shallow breathing.

Why would anyone single _her_ out?

"Riley?" More urgent this time, coupled with confusion – terror, almost.

She didn't have to show Victoire. She could slink off to the Slytherin Common Room and toss the letter into the dark stone fireplace without a word; no one would question it. She could pretend it never happened, shove it to the back of her mind.

But she didn't want to.

Wordlessly, she passed the piece of parchment to Victoire and watched as the blonde's dark eyebrows furrowed and she bit the inside of her cheek in concentration.

 _Riley Carrow,_

 _The time has come._

 _Renounce your friends, and welcome, with open arms, your family. By the virtue of the Pure Blood running through your veins, you are one of us. You want what we want, you deserve what we all deserve: freedom, power, and, most importantly, primacy._

 _It is almost time to take up arms. We trust you will join us when you receive the signal._

 _Sincerely,_

 _The Follower_

Victoire looked up at Riley, her eyes like blue china saucers. Riley bit her lip and broke eye contact.

"What does this mean?" the blonde asked, her voice low and trembling.

"I don't know."

"Who's the Follower?"

"I don't know."

"What signal?"

"I don't know." Her voice was exasperated – not because she was irritated with Victoire, but because she felt confused and scared. "I don't know what any of it means."

Victoire opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by the arrival of Alfie Hayes, who pulled out the empty chair opposite Victoire and sat down, grinning widely by way of greeting. Both girls straightened up and smiled back, although Riley found it difficult to summon up the strength needed to mask her emotions.

"Where are Teddy and Ella?" asked Victoire.

"Library." Alfie reached over and selected an apple from the fruit bowl. He bit into it, his teeth piercing the shiny red exterior. "Charms project. I was hungry, they weren't."

"Surprising," said Victoire. Her tone was odd, as if she was deep in thought. "Just Teddy and Ella?"

"What?"

"Are they alone?" she clarified. "In the library?"

Alfie gave her an odd look. "Yeah."

"Oh."

"They're perfectly safe." His voice went up at the end, questioning, but Victoire ignored it. There were a few moments of awkward silence – Riley glanced at her wristwatch and wondered if it would be rude to leave.

"You're both awfully quiet," Alfie commented through bites of his apple.

No response.

"Seriously?" He put the fruit on his plate and surveyed them both. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Victoire, too quickly.

"I don't believe you."

"Nothing's wrong."

Riley looked up at Alfie: his head was tilted slightly to the side, giving him the appearance of a confused, yet sympathetic puppy. He wouldn't understand, she thought. He was a muggleborn – how could he understand her world?

And yet at the beginning of the year, she had found herself in a meadow, confessing her fears to him, telling him about Tabitha James well before she'd told Victoire.

There was something about Alfie that made her feel as if she could trust him. Things with Teddy and Ella were different – she always felt as if they were withdrawn, holding something back. But Alfie was open. She considered herself a fairly good judge of character, and she knew by looking at Alfie's face that he was kind, open and fair. He would listen to her. He wouldn't judge.

"It's okay," she said softly. Victoire's head whipped around so quickly that she was almost struck in the face by her own curls.

Riley took the parchment and slid it across the table to Alfie, whose eyes scanned it quickly, widening as he read each sentence.

When he was done, he looked at her much as Victoire had, shock and confusion tracked across his face. "What –"

"Does it mean? I don't know." She swallowed. "I don't know what any of it means."

"Why did you get it?"

"I don't know."

"It's not _her_ fault –" Victoire began defensively.

"No, I'm not saying that – of course it's not. I'm just wondering whether Riley was the only one. The way it's worded…" he shook his head. "It's almost like someone's trying to start an army." He glanced at the letter again and then, slowly: "You know, you could ask Teddy and Ella – they might –"

"No," said Riley abruptly. "I'm sorry, I know they're your best friends, but…I'm not ready."

"Okay," Alfie nodded. Riley detected a note of hesitance in his voice, but chose to ignore it.

"I could find out whether anyone else got it," she said instead. "I'm not the only Pureblood at Hogwarts."

"I didn't get one," Victoire pointed out.

"That's because – no offense – your family isn't exactly…" she trailed off, wondering how to put it best.

"Because we're blood traitors?"

"Yeah." She paused. "Iris Fawley, though."

"You think –"

"The Fawley's are old blood. If I got one, chances are –"

"You'll ask?"

"I'll try."

"Hypothetically, though," interrupted Alfie, "if you were the only one, what do you think it could mean?"

"Yeah, but I'm probably _not_ the only one –"

"I'm just saying."

Victoire's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"Nothing! I – "

"This has something to do with her mum, doesn't it?"

 _Wait, what_? "My _mum_?" The Slytherin was unable to hide her surprise. "You've never even met my mum."

"Teddy, Ella, and Alfie were talking about your mum in Hogsmeade."

"I repeat, my _mum_? What about her?"

"Nothing!" said Alfie, defensively. "Ella read her name in a book, was wondering where she'd heard the name before, that's all."

"What book?"

"I don't know, some book about Pureblood families. You know Ella, she reads."

 _Too much,_ thought Riley, grimly.

"Well, this doesn't have anything to do with my mum," she grumbled, folding her arms. "If I got it and no one else did, it's probably because I'm related to death eaters. My aunt and uncle. Who are _dead_. My parents were not involved with Voldemort. They didn't have _anything_ to do with death eaters."

"We know," Victoire said soothingly.

"No, _you_ know, I'm telling Alfie." She jerked her chin towards the Hufflepuff who looked rather frightened.

"I know, too," he said remorsefully, his shoulders drooping. She almost felt bad for him, and softened.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just – I'm sick of people assuming things about me because of my last name." She pointed at the letter: "Even people I don't know think I'm up for some sort of Pureblood crusade because I'm a Carrow. I'm _not_."

She glanced at her wristwatch again and sighed. "I've got to go. I'll let you both know what Iris Fawley said."

"I'll come," Victoire said quickly, getting to her feet. Riley looked at her, debating whether or not to rebuff her, to say she needed to be on her own for a while.

No. She wasn't that person anymore.

"Sure," she said. "Let's go."

.oOo.

 _XII: A Different Kind of Letter_

"Teddy!" chirped Daisy Shipkins, skipping across the library and towards the table where Teddy Lupin and Ella Anderson were sitting, a poster-sized sheet of parchment spread out in front of them.

Ella groaned. "Doesn't she _know_ this is a library?"

Daisy ignored her. "This is for you!" She held out an envelope.

Teddy glanced at it suspiciously. "Daisy, if this is another apology letter, I'm really not the person you should be apologising to."

"Oh, don't worry about that, silly." Her tone was nonchalant, but her cheeks coloured. "This is a very _special_ delivery from Professor Smith."

"Professor _Smith_?"

"He teaches us Potions."

"Yes, I know that. I –" he broke off and sighed, taking the envelope from her. She waited expectantly; he dutifully opened it.

 _Dear Mr. Lupin,_

 _Requesting your presence at a small gathering, next Sunday at 8PM, on the fourth floor. Refreshments will be provided._

 _Yours,_

 _Professor Smith_

"He's reviving the Slug Club," Daisy said excitedly.

"No, he's not," snapped Ella, a little too harshly. " _I_ was in the Slug Club. And _you_ weren't."

"Well, it's a new, better club," said the other, pursing her lips and straightening up. "Professor Smith clearly knows who the right sort of people are."

Ella snorted in response.

"Maybe if you ask your boyfriend nicely, he'll take you. But oh!" Daisy feigned shock, placing her hand on her perfectly round mouth. "He broke up with you, didn't he?"

At this, Ella's face flushed, and she turned back to the poster, scrawling furiously under the headline 'The Abuses of Agate': "Crushed agate, when slipped into a glass of water and consumed by a Gemini target, can cause laryngitis, headaches and terrible, awful luck." She looked up. "Hey, Daisy, you're a Gemini aren't you? And crushed agate isn't hard to get – Smith's got some in the student stores, doesn't he?"

Daisy paled, her complexion standing in stark contrast to her fiery red hair. Ella looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"You're horrible, Anderson," she spat, before turning to Teddy and saying, in a much nicer tone: "I'll see you at the party, Teddy."

"Bye," Teddy said, struggling not to laugh. He watched her leave, and when the door slammed behind her, dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.

"What?" said Ella, bemused.

"'You're a Gemini, aren't you'?" he imitated. " _Gold_. Absolute gold. How do you come up with these things?"

She shrugged. "I'm a comedic genius."

"I'll say."

"So are you going to go?"

"Where?"

"To the party. Are you going to go?"

"Oh," he sobered and glanced at the invitation card still in his hand. "I dunno. Might be fun."

"I wonder how Smith's selecting people," Ella mused, tapping her quill absentmindedly against a textbook. "It can't be based on grades – mine are _much_ higher than Daisy's."

"Yeah, I wonder," echoed Teddy, thoughtfully.

Neither of them had time, however, to think over the matter further. The library door opened with a whoosh of air, and Alfie Hayes entered, hurrying towards them.

"That was a quick breakfast," said Ella.

"Never mind that." Alfie pulled out the chair next to Teddy and sat down. His face was flushed and beads of sweat lined his forehead, almost like he'd been running. "There's something –" He broke off unexpectedly, hesitating.

"What? What's the matter?"

"I don't know if I should be saying anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I…" he sighed.

"Alfie, what's wrong?" asked Teddy.

He swallowed hard and looked at them. "You can't say anything to her."

"To _who_?"

"Riley."

"Okay," Teddy drew out the vowels, looking confusedly at Ella. "What's the matter?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

* * *

 **A/N:** PHEW! This chapter made me alternate between obsessive bouts of writing and screaming at my computer because the words just wouldn't come out right! I hope you enjoyed meeting all the new characters, some of whom will feature more heavily than others in upcoming parts of the story. And all the Tabitha scenes – I never know whether you guys actually enjoy Tabitha's bits, or whether I just imagine that you do because _I_ really enjoy writing her, so if you've got strong opinions about Tabitha (or don't really care), do let me know in the reviews.

Also quick note: _masi_ is the Hindi word for aunt. In case anyone was confused!

The next chapter is provisionally entitled 'Matters of the Heart'. It takes place mostly within Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and involves some interesting developments in friendships/relationships. It'll also mostly be told through Teddy's eyes – the poor boy has been terribly neglected lately. As usual, you can keep up with my writing progress on my Tumblr (sincerelynymph)

Thank you all for all your lovely reviews! Reading your feedback actually makes my day, and I'm so grateful for it all! To anonymous reviewer Hpfan – glad you like Alfie/Ella, and Alfie/Riley! Both dynamics are fun to write and you'll be seeing a fair bit of one of them in the next chapter.

Reviews are 52 pages of chapter!


	17. Chapter 17: Matters of the Heart

**Chapter Seventeen: Matters of the Heart**

 **Recap:** Ella meets her Aunt Radhika for the first time. Radhika tells her that Mandira Tiwari – in Azkaban for killing twenty muggles, and Tabitha's prime suspect for the kidnappings – was close friends with a girl named Cecilia Selwyn (aka. Cecilia Carrow – Riley's mum). Riley gets a letter from someone called the Follower that spouts a lot of blood purity stuff.

Meanwhile, things are busy at auror headquarters. There's a break-in at the Dursleys, and Tabitha and Harry find a wand fragment that they send for analysis. It'll take six weeks to be identified. In the meantime, Tabitha illegally visits Mandira Tiwari in prison – though Mandira confesses to illegally corresponding with Angus Munroe, she insists she's innocent of both her original crime and the kidnappings. Tabitha isn't convinced.

 **Content warning:** minor swearing in Scene 12

* * *

 _I: Trust_

 _(n.) Firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something_

"It could just be a joke," Alfie said, wringing his hands uncomfortably. "Some kid with too much time on his hands thought he'd write to Riley for a laugh."

Silence.

Teddy felt like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. It tracked across his spine: cold, wet, slippery, causing tremors wherever it made contact with naked skin. He glanced at the window, but it was closed tightly, barring the bracing winter air from entering the musty study room, where Ella had dragged them the minute Alfie declared that the ' _something_ ' he needed to say might have to do with the kidnappings.

"I don't know that it is a joke," said Ella softly. Teddy noticed that she was very still. "I don't think…given everything that's happened, I don't think it's appropriate to assume that it is. Especially if the letter referenced the kidnappings."

Feeling was beginning to return to the tips of Teddy's fingers. It was a wonder he even felt this way at all – given the events of the last seven months, he should be used to this sort of news. Purist propaganda, disappearances, the dark mark appearing – it was becoming a new norm. It made him something bubble in his stomach, a strange potion of regret and anger. None of this should be happening. His parents…

No. This wasn't the time or the place. He swallowed hard and clenched his stomach muscles. Still, Alfie's words repeated over and over in his head:

 _The kidnappings are just the beginning_.

"They're brazen," he said suddenly, more to himself than to Alfie and Ella. "Whoever this person is – if they really _are_ responsible for the kidnappings – they're feeling brave. Confident."

"What do you mean?" asked Alfie, his eyebrows knitting together.

"They've not been caught yet. If this – what did you say they called themselves?"

"The Follower."

"Right. If the Follower's playing by the rule book, he or she'd stay quiet. Go off the grid. The less they do, the lower their chances of being found and sent to Azkaban for the rest of their life."

"Yeah, but sending a letter like this is the _opposite_ of staying quiet."

"I think that's Teddy's point," said Ella. Her tone was not accusatory or deprecating, but soft, as if she was drawing a child's attention to something obvious.

"I don't get it. Are you saying they want to be caught?"

Teddy ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip as he debated the question. "I don't know. But I do get the impression that they don't want to be forgotten. They want to make a statement."

He let this hang in the air for a moment before posing a question to Alfie: "Have any other Purebloods gotten the letter?"

"I don't know. Victoire didn't."

"She wouldn't anyway, her entire family was in the Order of the Phoenix." Ella chewed on her lip, her brows deeply furrowed. "I wonder if it matters."

"What do you mean?"

"Even if other Purebloods have gotten it, it could be a way of disguising the fact that this… _Follower_ , whoever they are, is singling out Riley."

 _What_?

"I don't know," said Alfie dubiously, glancing at Teddy. "I'm sorry, Ella, but that sounds a little paranoid to me."

"I think we should investigate her."

"Who? _Riley_?" He looked at Teddy again, this time as if to say _'Is she mad_?'

"Yes!"

"Ella," Teddy began. She narrowed her eyes at him and he took a deep breath, trying to think of how best to phrase his thoughts: "don't you think that's a little…unfounded?"

"No," she said, confidently. "You said it yourself, Teddy, sending this letter is a brazen move. Even if the Follower doesn't want to be forgotten, or whatever, a risk like this has to be justified – it can't just be something to give him or her an ego boost."

"It could be," Alfie mumbled.

Ella ignored him; instead, she raised her voice and addressed them as if she was addressing a jury, trying to convince them of a defendant's guilt. "Imagine you're the Follower. You've gotten away with everything you've done so far, but it's not enough. You're fading into the background, and you're itching for more. So you send a letter. Not just to get people to wake up and take notice – no, you're going to make this count."

She was good at this, Teddy thought. He could feel the beat of his heart against his ribcage, gathering speed.

"You send a letter to someone you think will be susceptible. Someone on the inside at Hogwarts that you think will listen to you. Someone whose family supports you –"

"Hang on now," said Alfie, louder and more forcefully. Ella stopped, and tilted her head towards him.

"What?"

"You're implying that Riley's parents support the Follower."

"I never said her parents."

"You _implied_ it."

"I could mean her aunt and uncle."

"Oh, stop it, Ella." The tone of his voice made Teddy look at him with surprise; his forehead was puckered, and his face muscles were pulled together into a scowl. Teddy had never before seen Alfie like this – frustrated, yes, but never irritated. "You don't mean her aunt and her uncle, you mean her parents – more specifically, her mother. You've been suspicious ever since you spoke to your aunt. And _don't_ try to deny it." He held up a finger threateningly, and Ella faltered, the words in her throat dissolving before they made contact with air.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "You've got me. I think this whole thing is _incredibly_ suspicious, and I think we should be looking into Riley's mum. There." She threw her hands up and leaned back in her chair. "I've said it." A strange glint sparkled in her eyes, as if she was daring the boys to call her out, to challenge her.

Teddy felt his hands shake, imperceptibly. He didn't like this. He didn't like his friends behaving in this way – Alfie angry, Ella stubborn and defensive. And worst of all, he didn't know who to side with. He loved both of them with all his heart; his friends meant just as much to him as his family. Alfie and Ella had both been there for him from his very first day at Hogwarts. They had stood by him when he'd been bullied by Terence, when the school had found out about his parents, when he'd nearly failed third year Arithimancy.

He wanted to intervene and stop them fighting, but he didn't know how. Instead, he watched, his shoulders stiff.

"There's no reason to suspect Riley's mum," snapped Alfie. "Just because you don't like _Riley_ – "

"This isn't about _her_!"

"Like Merlin it isn't!"

"It _isn't_ about her! It's about me!" exclaimed Ella. Her face was flushed, red undertones creeping out from under her pale brown skin. "These kidnappings affect _me_ , Alfie. _My_ family was targeted in the London attacks. _My_ family is under suspicion. So _excuse me_ if _I_ want to know what in Circe's name is going on!"

She had a point.

"Riley's not responsible," protested Alfie, but there was a lot less vehemence in his voice than there had been.

"Alfie." Ella reached up and ran a hand forcefully through her black locks, pulling at her scalp as if to relieve a sharp pain. Her voice was a lot calmer now. "You can't deny it's awfully suspicious that her mother used to be friends with the prime suspect in this case."

"We don't know that Mandira Tiwari's the prime suspect."

Irritation filtered through her voice again: "Why _else_ would Tabitha have circled her name?"

"But –"

"Guys," Teddy said sharply. Alfie and Ella looked at him with surprise in their eyes, and he realised they'd forgotten he was there. It would've been funny, if not for the circumstances. "Calm down."

"What do you think?" Ella addressed the question directly to him.

Teddy hesitated. He was aware of Ella's dark eyes on him, simultaneously trying to figure out his thoughts before he voiced them and willing him to side with her. But at the same time, he could feel Alfie next to him, confident that he and Teddy were on the same page.

"I think we should take a deep breath," he began. Ella's eyes narrowed, and Alfie cocked his head. _Damn it_. "And…"

"And?"

He inhaled sharply. "Let's not jump to conclusions." Alfie relaxed; Ella opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. "Let me finish. Alfie, you have a point: there isn't a lot we know, but we _do_ know that whatever's going on isn't Riley's fault. I don't think…actually, no, I _know_ she doesn't know anything. She's good, but she's not that good. If she was hiding something, we'd have realised by now. But Ella also has a point – this letter is suspicious, as is Riley's mum's friendship with Mandira Tiwari. If Tabitha thinks Mandira's behind the kidnappings, then Mandira must have some kind of associate on the outside who's actually kidnapping the kids and leaving messages – unless she's found a way of slipping in and out of Azkaban, which I think is pretty unlikely."

This time, it was Alfie who began to protest, but Teddy spoke over him: " _That doesn't mean_ we suddenly start investigating Riley's mum full-force. We can't do that _anyway_ – have you seen the amount of homework we've got?" Ella raised her eyebrows in agreement. He began to feel a little more confident – he was hitting the right notes, making them listen. "But we can ask questions. You're going to see Radhika again next time you go to Hogsmeade?"

Ella nodded.

"So ask about Cecilia." He turned to Alfie: "It doesn't mean anything. We're just gathering information. Can you both live with that?"

Alfie and Ella glanced at one another and sighed simultaneously. The tension no longer hung heavily in the air, but it wasn't entirely gone either. He could still feel it among them – he could see it in the way they regarded each other, each understanding, but not truly accepting each other's positions.

"We need to stick together," he said.

"We know – " Ella began, but he cut her off with a vehement shake of his head.

"No, I don't think we do. Everything that's happened has been unexpected. None of us, a year ago, would've thought we'd be here, talking about Pureblood propaganda and three kidnapped children. I don't want to be depressing, but…"

He swallowed. The thought had been there in the back of his mind for longer than he cared to admit, but never before had he acknowledged it. But now – it poured into his consciousness like concrete, settling in every crevice and hardening until it was nearly impossible not to say out loud.

"Teddy?" prompted Ella.

"Things are going to get worse." His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, but his tone remained grave. "I just…I have a feeling. So we need to stick together. Alright?"

Silence. Ella chewed on her fingernail – a nervous habit she'd never been able to drop – and Alfie looked as if he'd been told he could never eat chocolate again in his life. Teddy's chest felt heavy: perhaps he'd been a little _too_ morbid.

The weight was lifted, however, when Ella sighed and said to Alfie: "I get why you don't want to look into this."

"It feels like a betrayal," he replied glumly. "But I understand why you need to ask."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you." And then, turning to Teddy: "What would we do without you?"

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Tear each other apart?"

"I'd win the fight," said Alfie, his tone lighter now, almost playful.

Ella reached across the table, her arm flapping wildly as she tried – but failed – to smack Alfie. "In your _dreams_."

Teddy laughed. The atmosphere was noticeably more relaxed, but he still felt a tiny stab of dread, confined to the back of his mind, but slowly gaining traction.

A storm was coming. He could see the clouds crowning over the horizon, still tiny slivers of dark grey against the clear blue sky, but undeniably _there_.

He exhaled, his breath shaky.

"Hey," Alfie said, knocking Teddy's elbow gently with his own. "It's going to be okay. We've got each other."

"I know," he replied, letting his eyes drift shut. "I know."

.oOo.

 _II: Insecurity_

 _(n.) Uncertainty or anxiety about oneself; lack of confidence_

By Monday morning, Teddy had calmed down significantly. The dread was still there, but it had retreated. No longer did it puncutate his waking hours – at least, not unless he deliberately sought it out. Alfie and Ella weren't fighting anymore, and neither of them had mentioned Cecilia Carrow, not even when Ella had been writing to her aunt to set up another meeting.

It was amazing how things could go so wrong, and yet still be so normal.

Case in point: Daisy bloody Shipkins.

The redhead in question was already in the potions room with her books spread in front of her well before anybody else had even thought of entering. Morna Clemmons sat beside her, inspecting her pale pink nail paint for chips and scratches.

"She _does_ know she isn't fooling anyone, doesn't she?" said Ella, eyeing Daisy warily as she, Alfie, and Teddy took their normal seats in the middle of the expansive dungeon. "She didn't care this much about potions when Slughorn taught it. And that stupid _party_ – I bet you ten galleons she was the one who put the idea in Smith's head."

"Party?" asked Alfie, pulling books out of his satchel and haphazardly plonking them down on his desk. "What part – oh, I've forgotten my notebook."

"You can borrow my spare one," offered Teddy, reaching into his bag.

"Thanks, but I'll just write in my Transfiguration book instead. What party?"

" _You_ tell him, Teddy," sniffed Ella. "You got the invitation."

"You're not seriously upset about not getting one?"

"No, of course not. _I_ just think it's a bit ridiculous."

"Hell _o_ ," called Alfie. "Could someone – I don't really care _who_ – tell me about this part –"

"Silence, please!"

Daisy let out a little sigh that was just audible above the quietening din of students. Professor Smith strode towards the front of the room purposefully, his shoulders back and his gait brisk. Teddy watched him. Smith was tall – girls liked tall, he supposed – and his figure was lean, but toned. But then again, the same could be said of Macmillan, and though Macmillan was considered 'fit', he didn't generate nearly the same amount of fanfare as Smith did.

There was something about the way Smith carried himself. He had a sense of self-assuredness and confidence that, if seen on another, could be construed as arrogance, but was alluring on him. He held his chiselled jaw slightly above its' natural position, he never slouched, and he never once paused to check himself in the reflective surface of his cauldron, as Slughorn often used to.

Teddy could understand why Daisy was so enamoured by him. Smith was the sort of person it was easy to be taken in by.

The first half of the lesson was spent taking copious notes on the Invigoration Draught. It was only once Smith was certain that they had a good theoretical understanding that they were left to their own means.

"The ingredients and method are on page 345 of your textbooks," he said in his deep, slow voice. "If you've _forgotten_ your textbook – as many of you have –" his eyes lingered for a moment on Becca Dillion, who coloured and concentrated very hard on her parchment, "then you will find all the instructions you need on the board."

"So, about this party –" said Alfie as he diced rats tails

Teddy had forgotten all about it, and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a gathering Smith's holding on Sunday. Daisy gave me an invitation."

"It's _not_ a revival of the Slug Club," said Ella, pointedly. "I wasn't invited."

Alfie screwed up his nose. "Weird. What do you think he wants?"

Teddy shrugged. "Beats me."

" _Weird_."

"I'll say," interjected Ella. "The invitations seem to be completely random. I mean, fancy Daisy getting one, and not me."

Alfie gave her a sly look. "Ella Anderson, are you _jealous_ of Daisy Shipkins?"

"What?" exclaimed Ella, a little too loudly.

"You seem jealous to me," teased Teddy.

Becca swivelled in her chair. "What's this, Anderson? Jealous of Shipkins because Smith gives her all the attention?"

"Haven't we had enough teacher/student rumours to last us the rest of the year?" snapped Ella. Becca raised her eyebrows and turned back to her work, muttering 'grouch' under her breath.

"You _are_ jealous," whispered Alfie playfully.

"Am not!"

"Are too! Look, you're blushing!"

"I don't blush!"

"Yes, you do! Look, Teddy, isn't she going pink?" Pause – Teddy nodded, grinning. Alfie turned back to Ella triumphantly: "See? Told you!"

"I hate you both," she muttered angrily, her nose twitching. She reached for her knife and began to chop gingerroot with far more force than necessary. The thud of her blade against her wooden chopping board resounded across the room, forcefully punctuating her sentences. "Daisy only got invited to this _stupid_ gathering because she fancies Smith, and –" she glanced up momentarily to determine the Professor's position and only continued when she ascertained he was well out of earshot: "and he's obviously _idiotic_ enough to fall for it."

"I've never heard you call a professor idiotic before," commented Alfie, amused.

Ella glared at him. "All I'm saying is that if the criteria for getting invited to this party is fluttering your eyebrows at Smith and playing the part of the poor, innocent, damsel in distress, then I'd really rather not go."

"Er – sorry to interrupt." Matilda Goshawk leaned over the desk adjacent to Teddy's own, the corners of her mouth turned up in an apologetic smile. Teddy had forgotten she was there. "I got an invitation to the party. And I don't fancy Smith."

"Oh." A flush crept up Ella's face and she ducked her head slightly. "I mean – I wasn't – I was joking." Alfie suppressed a giggle; Teddy elbowed him.

"I know," said Matilda, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I mean – I just – you know –"

"Do you want me to ask Professor Smith why you didn't get an invitation?" Matilda's voice was filled with a genuine selfless concern that Teddy found rather endearing. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were invited, and Daisy had simply hidden the invitation."

"Oh!" The flush became more pronounced. "No, I couldn't – it wouldn't be appropriate."

"You could come as my plus one."

"I couldn't," Ella shook her head.

"I mean, you definitely could, I wouldn't mind –"

"No, thank you." Her voice was firm, but polite. "You're very kind, though, Matilda."

"Well, the offer stands," replied the other, straightening up and pushing a lock of mousy brown hair behind her ear. "Sorry, Teddy – I've been in your way."

"Not at all. So you're going? On Sunday?"

Matilda bit the inside of her cheek. "I haven't decided yet."

He tilted his head knowingly.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that." She dropped her gaze.

After a heavy pause, she said: "Alright, _fine_. I'm not going because I don't think Daisy would want me there."

"It's not _her_ party."

"Yeah, but she probably thinks it is."

"Who cares what she thinks?" demanded Alfie.

Matilda muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like " _I do_." She turned back to her potion and busied herself measuring outpowdered griffin claws, but Teddy wasn't having any of it. He opened his mouth to remind Matilda of the confidence that he knew was lurking around _somewhere_ under her timid exterior (where exactly, he wasn't sure), when he became aware of a presence behind him.

Professor Smith cleared his throat loudly. Matilda started and dropped her griffin claws into her cauldron. It hissed angrily, spluttering and puffing up murky scarlet smoke.

"Perhaps, Miss Goshawk, you should focus more on making your potion than on making friends," said Smith sternly.

Matilda's cheeks coloured. Her shoulders tightened and she nodded, trembling. "Sorry, Professor."

He inclined his head generously, before raising his voice: "That goes for all of you. I expect less chat and more work – I do _not_ need to remind you that your O.W.L.s are coming up, and I expect all my students to get at least an E. If you haven't started preparing yet, I advise you do so."

"I haven't started preparing," whispered Alfie, alarmed.

"The Invigorating Draught often comes up on the practical exam," continued Smith, sweeping around the room, "and I see very few potions that live up to my standards. The Draught is supposed to be _pink_ – not red, Miss Downing, nor purple, Mister Torricelli. Pink." He had moved to near the front of the room, and was standing next to Daisy Shipkins. Teddy couldn't see her face, but from the way she was holding herself – spine straight, as if pinned to a rod, and head tilted ever-so-slightly backwards – he knew exactly what was coming next.

Ella rolled her eyes and whispered: "Three, two, one."

Smith peered down into her cauldron, surveying the thick liquid inside with considerable interest. He nodded slowly, his lips slightly pursed, as if he had seen something in a shop that he particularly liked. "Not bad, Miss Shipkins. Keep this up, and you'll have an O-grade potion by the end of the lesson."

Daisy's simpering voice cut through the air: "Oh, _thank_ you, Professor."

"And blast off."

(x)

"I just wanted to say thank you _so_ much for the 'O', Professor," preened Daisy. The lesson had ended, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws streaming out of the dungeon on their way to their next class, but Daisy had loitered around, waiting until she was alone with Professor Smith. "It was _so_ unexpected – I've never made an Invigorating Draught before, you know."

Professor Smith looked up from his desk, regarding her with a touch of amusement. "I reward good work when I see it, Daisy."

"Yes, but –" she tried to think of something to say, "an O just means _so_ much to me. Coming from you, especially."

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin curve. She wasn't entirely sure whether it was a smile or a frown. Strange. He was usually a lot more forthcoming.

She tried again, her voice high-pitched and breathless with excitement and desperation: "And I just wanted to say how excited I am for Sunday."

"As am I."

"But I'll see you before then, of course?"

"Yes, Miss Shipkins. We have a tutorial scheduled on Wednesday, is that correct?"

Her heart fluttered in her chest like a baby bird taking its' first flight. _He remembered_. "Yes, Professor." She paused for dramatic effect. "I so look forward to our sessions. This dungeon is where I feel safest in Hogwarts." _And you're my guardian angel_.

Cheesy, perhaps; an exaggeration, definitely; but fundamentally – at least, in Daisy Shipkins' mind – true.

And it worked. The curve of Smith's lips became more defined, though he kept them pressed together. "I'm glad, Miss Shipkins."

A pause – not uncomfortable, but glorious, wonderful, _perfect_. Daisy stayed very still. Perhaps if she didn't move, neither would the clocks. Perhaps she would be able to stay here, forever: safe from the sharp jaws of the other girls in her year, safe from their eye-rolls and whispers.

Safe from the crippling shame that cut through her whenever she saw Bella Watson.

No. She wouldn't think about that.

"You should get to your next class, Miss Shipkins," said Smith, and the moment came crashing down around her. "I would hate for you to be late."

"Of course." The smile remained firmly planted on her lips. "I'll see you, Professor."

"That you will."

She turned and flounced out of the dungeon, letting the heavy door slam behind her. Smith turned his attention back to the essays on his desk, his lips curling lopsidedly as he scanned clumsily-written lines on the uses of a shrinking solution.

"That," he repeated softly to himself, "you will."

.oOo.

 _III: Caution_

 _(n.) Care taken to avoid danger or mistakes_

It had become a routine.

Get up, make coffee, drink coffee in bed. Eat green apple that Munroe – _Angus_ – had started specially buying from the grocery store around the corner because he knew she hated red ones. Shower, get changed. Nearly half of her work wardrobe had migrated here: her crisp, well-ironed button-downs hung in Munroe's (Angus, _Angus_ ) closet, next to his own. Her skirts and trousers were folded neatly and placed away in drawers that were once deemed spare, but now belonged to her. Two pairs of heels and one pair of flats were lined up by her side of the bed.

 _Circe_ , she had a side of the bed.

When had this stopped being an affair and started being a relationship?

This was the question that Tabitha James asked herself as she sat on the foot of the bed. She swung her leg backwards and forwards, letting her heel hit gently against the wooden frame. A mug of warm, black coffee was cupped in her hands. She let the warmth seep into her and, closing her eyes, inhaled its' rich, distinctly bitter scent.

She was being ridiculous.

The only reason she was here, in an apartment that was not her own, was to get information and keep an eye on Munroe. Theoretically, it was all very professional: sex was just another interrogation tactic, her way of making him trust her so deeply and intimately that he would not think of holding anything back.

Potter knew what she was doing, of course. Well, at least, she thought he did. He'd intimated that she was sleeping with Munroe, and knew that he was her prime suspect. Unless he was thicker than she thought, he'd have put two and two together. He hadn't said anything; Tabitha took that to mean he trusted her not to get carried away, caught up in (silly, unnecessary) emotions.

So why was she sitting here thinking about _relationships_?

There was no denying that Angus Munroe was attractive, what with his sunflower-coloured hair, periwinkle blue eyes, and chiselled jaw. And to make matters worse, he was a perfect gentleman: he always opened the door for her, poured her glasses of red wine, and had never once raised his voice, even when they were arguing. The Scottish accent didn't hurt either.

But this _wasn't_ a relationship. It couldn't be.

It didn't matter how attracted to him she was. She could shove those feelings into a box and store them away, no questions asked. No matter how much time she spent lounging around Munroe's apartment, it did not change the fundamentals: he was a suspect. And if Tabitha James maintained her emotional distance from her cases, she most _certainly_ maintained her emotional distance from her suspects.

"Alright?" asked Munroe, entering the bedroom. He was wearing a soft flannel robe over his nightclothes – a matching set of pajamas, naturally – and had a mug of coffee in his left hand. Tabitha stopped swinging her legs, shaking the heavy, swirling mist of thoughts that surrounded her away. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Something's wrong," he said when he straightened up.

Tabitha cursed inwardly. "Nothing. Just…thinking."

"About the case?"

"Yes." Not a lie.

"I know you're stressed," he said, perching next to her. "Some cases are like this. No leads."

 _I know_ , she wanted to snap, _I've been in the department longer than you have_. Instead, she feigned a thankful, reassured smile, and let her eyes grow wide. "I just…feel so – "

"I know, love." _Love_. "But you're the best auror I know. If anyone can solve this, it'll be you."

He said it so confidently, so steadfastly, that for a moment, she was almost convinced.

Almost. But not quite.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking a long sip of her coffee. Her gaze settled on his hands, now resting on his lap: he held his own mug in his left, but in his right was a yellowed envelope, the seal broken. The muscles in her arms tightened.

"Who's that from?" she asked casually.

"What? Oh." He laughed nervously, and she felt her skin prickle.

 _Mandira_. _It had to be Mandira_.

"My sister."

Surprised: "You have a sister?" All a performance, of course – she had been through his known associates several times with a fine-toothed comb.

He nodded. "She lives in Paris. Moved there from Edinburgh last spring."

True, but unnecessary. She hadn't asked.

He was lying.

Still, she kept up the charade. It was effortless, now: the ease with which she slipped into a lie would terrify a more upstanding person. "I'd like to meet her, someday." Give him hope that this was long-term.

"I'd like that, too."

It took all her restraint not to glance at the letter. Bringing the mug to her lips, she drained it of coffee and sighed, letting the caffeine run down her throat and into her bloodstream.

"Would you like more?"

 _This_ was what she liked about Munroe. Not his face, his body, his manners – but how _easy_ he was. He played into her hands without her even having to try.

Her smile reached her eyes. "Please."

He left the envelope lying on the bed.

She reached forward with slender, nimble fingers and turned it over, sliding her thumb underneath the flap and lifting it open soundlessly. Pinching the folded parchment inside, she deftly removed it. The clink of a mug against the marbletop counter sounded from the kitchen – she estimated she had about a minute, maybe less. Unfolding the parchment, she scanned it as quickly as possible, looking for something, _anything_.

The letter was signed, 'Ava', not Mandira, and spoke of little more than Paris eateries and 'mum's hip'. There was nothing remotely suspicious, and it was _far_ too prosaic to include a coded message.

 _Damn it._

Sighing silently, she folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope, returning it to its' original position on the duvet cover a split second before Munroe re-entered holding Tabitha's now-full and gently steaming mug. He smiled at her, his lips parting to reveal his even-set teeth. Her heart fluttered slightly; she made a point of looking away, focusing instead on the coffee she realised she didn't even want.

She could feel what she liked in her own time. It was worthless: as soon as she had her evidence, she'd move to arrest Munroe, and he'd know that, for the most part, she had toyed with him.

In one swift motion, everything would come crashing down.

 _Emotional distance_ , she thought later, shrugging on her black woollen coat and wrapping her red scarf around her neck. _It really is the only way._

.oOo.

 _IV: Discomfort_

 _(n.) Worry or embarrassment_

"You have to come!"

"I don't want to come."

"Riley," reprimanded Victoire, folding her arms knowingly, "you've been invited to a party."

"A gathering. Held by a professor."

"Whatever. The point is, it'll do you good to get out of…this." She glanced at the Slytherin fourth-year girls dormitory, her nose wrinkling slightly. "Honestly, is it always so…"

"So what?"

"Green? Musty?"

"We're under the Great Lake."

Too late, she remembered that Victoire was terrified of the Giant Squid. The blonde blanched, and looked as if she might be sick at any moment.

"I…did not need to know that."

"Sorry."

"You should still come."

Goodness, she was tenacious.

"Vic –"

"No, Riley, I'm serious. You've been down ever since you got that _stupid_ letter –"

"Maybe I'd be better if you let me toss the damn thing into the fire."

"It's important. It could be evidence."

Riley snorted. "Yeah, right. As if I'm going to send it to Tabitha James. She'd probably find a way to turn it around on me."

"I'm not _saying_ you should send it to Tabitha James – I didn't even _mention_ Tabitha James. As far as I'm concerned, Tabitha James is the _enemy_." This was amusing – Victoire Weasley thinking badly of an auror. "I just think you should keep it. Just in case. And _stop_ changing the subject, you."

Damn.

"You're coming to the party," said Victoire stubbornly. "Even if I have to drag you there by the scruff of your robes – you're coming."

She groaned. " _Fine_."

(x)

The party – or _gathering_ , as Professor Smith had chosen to call it – was held in a large hall on the fourth floor. It had been elegantly decorated for the occasion: fairy lights were strung from the ceiling, and tealights dotted all available surfaces, giving the space a mystic, orange glow, not unlike the one cast by the setting sun over the Great Lake during autumn. The tables were draped with golden cloth, and were heavily laden with all sorts of foods and drinks: from Honeyduke's finest to whole fish that made Riley gag. Though she was an avid meat eater, she did not like being reminded of the fact that her food had once been alive.

By the time she and Victoire arrived, a number of other guests were already present: she could see Iris Fawley talking to a seventh-year boy over by the crackling fireplace. Matilda Goshawk was in a corner on her own, nibbling on what looked like a chocolate frog; her twin, Michael, was across the room gesticulating grandly as he spoke to someone she vaguely recognised (or thought she _should_ recognise – he was wearing a suit, and looked important, and the Carrows knew everyone important in the wizarding world). There were, in fact, a number of very important looking people standing around, drinks in hand. Not as many as there were at Slughorn's party, but a fair few.

And there, of course, was Daisy Shipkins, swanning around the room like a hostess. It was all Riley could do not to laugh: she was clearly overdressed for the occasion. While everyone else was smartly dressed, Daisy had gone a step overboard in a pale pink dress that – miraculously – didn't clash with her hair, and fuschia lipstick that did.

"If I ever try to leave the Slytherin dungeon looking like that, please stop me," she commented.

Victoire brought a hand to her mouth to cover her snigger. "We're horrible. It isn't nice to laugh at other people."

Riley shrugged. "'Other people' aren't Daisy Shipkins."

"A fair point."

They drifted towards a table – Riley selected a vegetable tart, while Victoire reached for a sugar quill.

"Those things are awful for your teeth," said Riley.

 _Crunch_. "Okay, _mum_."

"Your funeral."

"Did you agree to come just to lecture about my food choices?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Did you convince me to come just so you could ignore my well-meaning advice?"

 _Crunch_. "Of course not. I convinced you because your pockets are larger than mine, which means you can smuggle more food out of here than I can."

Riley let out a disbelieving laugh. "You've got to be _joking_."

"No, I'm deadly serious. Do you know how much money I spend in Honeydukes?"

"I don't think I want to!"

"Miss Carrow, Miss Weasley," came a deep, rich voice from behind them. Riley and Victoire both sobered quickly, clearing their throats and swallowing to dissolve the laughter caught in their windpipes. Professor Smith stood before them, a gracious smile on his lips. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you very much for inviting us," said Victoire demurely. Only Riley was able to feel her vibrating with suppressed giggles, and quickly stepped in before she exploded:

"You've done the hall up very nicely, Professor."

"Thank you. I can't claim full credit – Miss Shipkins was instrumental."

 _Of course she was_.

"Some very interesting people here," commented Smith, smoothly changing the subject. "Nothing on the clientele at Professor Slughorn's parties, I'm sure, but I do hope they will do – I think networking is _so_ important, don't you?"

The girls concurred, more out of politeness than any strong opinion of their own.

"Now, Miss Weasley, I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to borrow Miss Carrow for a moment."

Riley, though usually good at concealing her thoughts, felt her eyebrows shoot up with surprise. Victoire gave her a puzzled look, and she returned it.

"Sure, Professor. Riles, I'll be around – I'm going to look for Teddy, okay?"

"Sure."

Victoire glanced over her shoulder as she walked away; Riley gave her a reassuring smile.

Whatever Professor Smith wanted, it was likely perfectly reasonable. He probably just wanted to talk to her about her latest Potions assignment – yes, that was probably it. She'd done it in a rush the day before the deadline.

Smith waited until Victoire was well out of earshot before speaking.

"As Head of Slytherin House, I make it my business to check up on my students. Ensure they're doing well."

Riley quirked an eyebrow. "I'm fine."

He tilted his head. "Are you sure? I've not spoken to you since the…incident on Hallowe'en last term."

Riley grimaced at the memory – thinking about being hung from the ceiling produced a queasy, dizzy feeling that was most uncomfortable.

"Has anything of the sort happened since then?"

She shook her head.

"Anything else you wish to tell me about?"

For a brief, inexplicable moment, she thought about mentioning the letter. It had weighed heavily on her mind since she had received it, and though she'd spoken about it and how it had made her feel to Victoire, she wondered if opening up to someone else – an adult, someone more responsible than she – might help flush it from her thoughts. And Smith – he looked so earnest, so willing to be a listening ear. Hadn't she promised herself that she'd be more open?

But just as quickly as she'd let the thought enter her mind, she quashed it. Being open with Victoire was one thing, but talking to Smith was another. There was something off about him – his eyes a little too wide, his head tilted slightly more than it needed to be. She tugged the corners of her lips upwards into a smile and said, finality colouring her tone: "No, Professor. Thank you."

"Very well," said Smith. "If there's anything at all, do let me know."

"I will."

He hesitated; there was something he meant to say but he wasn't saying it. Riley waited awkwardly, shifting her weight from leg to leg.

At last, softly: "Things are about to change for you, Riley.."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, her piercing green eyes filled with accusation, confusion, and the tiniest tinge of fear. She scanned his face: there was a steadfast, yet searching look in his eyes and his lips were pressed together – not thin, merely controlled. A shiver ran down her back – long, cold fingers of ice reaching out and skimming the top of her flesh.

"I don't know what you're getting at, Professor," she said, carefully, staunchly, "but I'd rather not hear it, either way."

Something disappeared in his eyes and only once it had gone, did she realise was there at all – she could not remember it well enough to identify it. His face relaxed, the muscles reconfiguring themselves, until he was the Professor Smith she knew once again.

"You misunderstand me, Miss Carrow. I was merely expressing that you are growing up – coming to the end of your fourth year. Your O.W.L.'s."

"There's still time for that."

An incline of the head. "As you wish."

She had stopped shuffling. "Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Very well. Thank you again for inviting me."

She turned to leave, ducking her head as if to avoid his gaze.

He couldn't _possibly_ mean what she thought he did. It _couldn't_ be. She was projecting her own worries onto his words – meaningless words, really, the sort that held little value without context. She must have misunderstood him.

Nevertheless, she needed to talk to Victoire.

.oOo.

 _V: Peace_

 _(n.) Freedom from disturbance; tranquillity; mental or emotional calm_

There was no polite way of putting it: Smith's gathering was downright boring.

Teddy hovered around the food table, his hands tucked into his pockets. Slug Club gatherings had been far more fun – Ella was always there by virtue of her potion-making skills and Alfie always wrangled an invite off one of them as a plus-one. The crowd at Smith's party was decidedly dull: none of the fifth years invited were particularly good friends with Teddy, and he didn't really know any of the upper or underclassmen he saw milling around.

Even the adults were dull. Teddy was unusual among teenagers in that he enjoyed adult company – years of tea at his uncle Harry's before his baby cousins had been born had taught him to interact with those older than him. Slughorn had always invited several former aurors, and he'd loved to sit and listen to them regale him with stories of his mother at work, catching criminals, playing pranks on her colleagues and losing paperwork. He knew so little about his parents that he would take any little bit of colour that anyone could provide and use it to create a more lifelike image of them: laughing, vibrant, alive.

But there was no one here who could help him with that.

He noticed Victoire and lifted his hand in a wave. She grinned – at least, he thought she did – and began to approach him. There was something different about her. She had elected not to wear dress robes, likely due to Smith's insistence that they dressed casually. Instead, she'd slung a regular black pair over jeans and a white T-shirt – an outfit that some might consider excessively casual, but that she somehow managed to pull off perfectly. He noticed, with a start, that it was her hair that had caught his attention. Her long blonde curls were – inexplicably – woven into a beautiful French braid.

He grinned and said, pointing to her hair: "What possessed you to do that?"

The Gryffindor turned scarlet and ducked her head, muttering something inaudible under her breath. An unexpected reaction.

He figured she'd just misunderstood, so clarified: "The French braid. You used to _hate_ it when your mum did your hair like that – I figured I'd never see you do it of your own volition."

Surprisingly, her face became even more flushed – she looked as if she'd just spent an hour in a desert. Her lips moved again, but the words that came out were a confusing jumble.

"Sorry?"

"Riley said it looked good on me," she said, audible at last, "and I thought…well…I just thought it'd be nice to try something differently." She paused, and then added, quickly: "Of course, if you don't like it, I can – "

"No, no, it's fine," said Teddy slowly. He surveyed the Gryffindor carefully, his nose wrinkling and his lips twisting to the side. Her blush had faded somewhat, but her cheeks were still pink. She was distinctly avoiding his gaze, focusing instead on a plate of Fondant Fancies, which he knew she didn't even like. He folded his arms suspiciously: "What's going on?"

"Huh?" Her eyes were wide and blank.

"You're acting weird."

"I am?"

"Yeah. Is everything alright?"

"Fine."

"Where's Riley?"

"Talking to Smith."

Teddy cracked a smile. "Poor girl," he said, jokingly.

Victoire didn't smile back; instead, she looked like a Hippogriff caught in headlights. For someone who was usually so confident and feisty, she was acting in a highly unusual manner.

"Are you sure you're –"

"Fine," said Victoire quickly, ducking her head again and picking up a strawberry cake from the platter. "I should go. Riley's probably done by now. You know."

She scuttled off before he could respond, her thick French plait disappearing into the throng of people. He watched her go, puzzlement tracking across his face. How could he even _begin_ to interpret their conversation? In the fourteen – nearly fifteen – years he'd known her, he'd never seen Victoire Weasley act so…strangely.

He thought back, trying to think of something that might explain her behaviour, but nothing sprung to mind. She'd been perfectly normal at breakfast, berating Riley for not wanting to come to the party, and he hadn't seen her since then. In fact, come to think of it, he'd barely seen her at all over the last couple of weeks: she'd been so caught up with Quidditch practice that they'd only really had a chance to chat when in a group at mealtimes. He wondered if there was something she wanted to say to him in private – but _what_? And how hard would it be to ask for a word alone before class, or after dinner?

He absentmindedly reached for a chocolate frog and nibbled on its' leg. There wasn't much point in hanging around – he didn't want to talk to anyone, and no one seemed to want to talk to him (seriously, what was _with_ Victoire?) He would have a much more productive night in the Common Room with his Charms assignment, or playing Exploding Snap with Alfie.

His mind made up, he turned to head for the door when he heard a soft voice from behind him.

"Leaving so soon?"

Matilda Goshawk had snuck up behind him, a sparkle in her pale green eyes. She brushed a wisp of mousy hair behind her ear and smiled at him, her lips parting slightly to reveal just the tips of her teeth.

"It is a fairly boring party. I don't blame you if you do want to leave."

Teddy rolled his eyes humorously. "It's _so_ dull."

"I was expecting something more than just people standing around." She surveyed the crowd. "They all look so deep in conversation."

"Merlin knows what they're talking about."

Matilda arched an eyebrow cheekily. "Illicit activities."

" _Matilda_!" He laughed properly for the first time that evening.

"They're going to steal every single award for Special Services to the School, melt them down, and sell the gold bars on."

"They wouldn't get very much for them. The trophies are only gold-plated."

"How disappointing."

"My sentiments exactly." The smile was still on his face, his muscles relaxed and easy. "What've you been up to?"

Matilda let out a groan. " _Nothing_. I've been so bored – Michael's around here somewhere, but you know him, he's _networking_ and we…well, we don't talk much anyway. And I don't really know anyone else. When I started thinking I should have a chat with _Daisy_ , I thought I might as well leave – I need to work on that Transfiguration project Ellacott set us – and that's when I ran into you!"

"Fair. How's Transfiguration going?" Professor Ellacott had assigned partners, and Matilda had been put with Ella.

"Surprisingly good. Ella's a _great_ partner – I was a bit scared at first because she's so smart, but she's really lovely." Her cheeks coloured slightly. "I mean, I probably shouldn't've expected anything else – she's friends with you and Alfie, so she _has_ to be nice."

"She's great," Teddy agreed warmly. " _Crazy_ organised though, yeah?"

"Don't get me started! She's broken down the project into little tasks and has a whole timeline on when we should have each element done. It's a bit scary, but great, really, I'm always forgetting to do things, so she keeps me on track."

"She does that for Alfie and me too, even when we're not working with her. In first year, she made us revision timetables."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. She'd scheduled out our whole day, including breaks, down to the half hour."

"Did you stick to it?"

He grinned wryly. "Of course not. We gave up after a day."

Matilda's laugh was high and lingering, like the sound of windchimes. "Still, it was nice of her."

"It was," Teddy agreed.

There was a moment of silence between them. Matilda brought her hands together and chewed on her upper lip, as if lost in thought, her brooding expression in stark contrast to the carefree one she had held just a moment ago. When she spoke, her tone was nothing Teddy hadn't heard before – quiet, hopeful, despondent: "I wish I had friends as great as you guys. You three are so close – you do everything together, and I bet you tell each other everything too. I'd like that."

"Matilda –" sighed Teddy.

"Oh, I know," she laughed, trying to sound as casual as possible, "there's nothing wrong with _me_ , I've got great friends, everyone's different – I've heard it all before. It just…y'know, sometimes you wonder…"

She trailed off and glanced at the floor, wringing her hands. Teddy got the distinct impression that she was trying to summon up the courage to say or do something.

"Mat?" he prompted.

"You know how you keep telling me to be more confident?" she began slowly, not meeting his gaze. "Well, there's something I've been meaning to say. To you. And I figure…well, there's no time like the present."

He hid his confusion behind what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Yeah?"

She swallowed audibly, the lump in her throat bobbing up and down.

"Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me? On a… on a date?"

His jaw dropped slightly and he quickly shut it again, hoping she hadn't noticed his surprise. Teddy prided himself on being a fairly good judge of character, buthe had _not_ seen this coming. Granted, he didn't have much experience with girls' but there had been _no_ obviousindications – no giggling to her friends, no fluttering of the eyelashes, no coy glances – that she thought of him as anything more than a friend. He could feel his heart beating faster than normal, and his palms beginning to moisten and he licked his lips, trying his best to calm himself down and think straight.

He was taking too long.

Matilda's cheeks coloured and he could practically see the regret swirling in her mind. If he said no, he knew it would be a blow to her. Whatever little confidence she had would probably be shot.

She was looking at him searchingly. The hope in her eyes was painful – she'd asked him because she'd trusted him, and he couldn't bear to break that trust.

"Sure," he said at last, ensuring every possible trace of hesitation was well-hidden. "Yeah, that 'd be nice."

Her eyes lit up like lightbulbs, a childlike smile stretching across her face. "Great," she said, the excitement palpable in her voice. "The next trip, yeah?"

"Yeah." He returned her smile. It was just one date, and it'd…it'd be just like hanging out together, only there'd be no one else around. And he liked Matilda, he really did. Not necessarily in _that_ way, but she was a nice girl, and a good friend. It was better to go out with her than to hurt her feelings and risk her not wanting to speak with him.

This way, at least, no one got hurt.

He did not see Victoire Weasley, who had returned, stiffen, her fingers pressing into and cracking the icing of the Fondant Fancy in her hand. He did not see the scarlet blush – the result of embarrassment, anger, or both – creep up her face, and he did not see her turn, and stalk away, hunched over with her shoulders pressed together and her hands in her pockets, like she wanted nothing more than to melt, invisible, into the crowd.

.oOo.

 _VI: Love_

 _(n.) An intense feeling of romantic attachment based on an attraction felt by one person for another._

"And I was going to _apologise_ for acting so stupidly!" exclaimed Victoire, pacing up and down.

"Gryff, you're going to catch your death –"

"I don't care!" exclaimed the blonde angrily. Her face was becoming more and more flushed by the moment, but she was fairly sure that the crisp air had nothing to do with it. She did not feel cold at all – there was fire coursing through her veins and beads of sweat were forming on her face, forearms and fingertips.

"Well, I do," reprimanded Riley, firmly. She pushed herself off the concrete wall that bordered the Hogwarts' courtyard and strode forward. Victoire stubbornly placed her hands on her hips and looked away like an insolent child as the Slytherin buttoned her coat for her. She'd found Riley not long after overhearing Teddy and had, without an explanation, grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the warmth and outside, into the icy, deserted expanse of the quadrangle, where there was little chance they'd be overheard.

"There," said Riley, doing up the top button. "Put on your scarf."

"Don't want to."

"You'll miss your first Quidditch match if you don't."

Victoire glared at Riley, but wrapped the soft red-and-gold garment around her neck regardless.

"Now, continue."

"I was going to _apologise_! Because fine, I _did_ act like an idiot. I didn't intend to, but Riles, he mentioned the braid, and I just _knew_ I looked stupid –"

"Did he say you looked stupid? Because I _will_ punch him."

"No! No, of course he didn't, he said it looked nice, but I _knew_ he didn't like it –"

"It sounds like he did."

"Will you let me talk? And then I couldn't look at him because every time I did, I thought ' _oh Circe, he hates me_ ,' and I was giving him stupid, monosyllabic answers and sounding like an incoherent, mumbling idiot – kind of like that kid who can't talk to Professor Macmillan without looking like he's going to break out in hives, what's his name?"

"Beats me."

"Madrigan, that's it. I sounded like _Madrigan_. Anyway, so I left, and then when I saw you were still talking to Smith, I came back because I realised what an idiot I was being and then I saw _him_ and _her_ –"

"Who's her?"

"Matilda Goshawk!"

"Who?"

"Michael's twin sister! The one in Teddy's year, in his house – you know, the one who's all the things I'm not. And she asked him out and he said _yes_." Her breathing was heavy, forming clouds of condensation against the velvet night sky.

"Wait," said Riley, after a pause: "Matilda's the mousy one, right?"

"Yeah, she's the mousy one." Victoire's expression turned murderous. "She's prettier than me, isn't she?"

The Slytherin scoffed, tossing her long brown ponytail behind her. "No offense to her, I'm sure she's lovely, but she's not got anything on you. You're way fitter."

"You're not just saying that?"

"When do I 'just say' things without meaning them?"

Victoire considered this for a moment before accepting it. "Okay, fine, but what if she's nicer? Do you think she's nicer than me?"

"I don't _know_ her!" exclaimed Riley, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "Why are you so bothered by this?"

"Why am I – Riley, my _best friend_ – sorry, my _other_ best friend just agreed to go on a date with a girl!"

"Did you think he was gay?"

"What? No!"

"Then why are you so bothered that he's going out with Matilda?"

"Because…" Victoire tried to think of the correct words, but nothing came to mind. She knew exactly how she was feeling: betrayed, hurt, so angry she could barely think straight, but ask her to describe _why_ …

There was no rational reason why she should be so irritated by this. No reason why Teddy shouldn't go out with Matilda. He was in _fifth_ year after all, people had started dating _years_ ago, it was only natural that he'd eventually go on a date with someone, if he hadn't already (oh Circe, _had_ he? She knew there was something about that Giovanna Downing she didn't like). So why was she getting so worked up?

Riley had seemed to realise she wasn't going to get an answer, for she sighed and rubbed her hands together. "If you're bothered, why don't you just tell him you like him?"

 _Wait, what_?

She stared at the Slytherin, her blue eyes like saucers and her lips opening and closing like a fish. "I…what…no. I…I don't like him."

Riley raised her eyebrows slightly. Victoire felt like she'd been hit by a Hippogriff – no, not a Hippogriff, a Hippogriff wasn't nearly large enough. A running giant, maybe, or one of those large square muggle contraptions that had huge wheels and carried containers. The world slowed around her, and a low buzzing in her ears intensified. She reached out and grabbed the nearest pillar to stop herself from falling.

"Oh my Merlin, I do."

Riley scoffed, but it was soft – almost gentle, really: "Took you long enough."

"I… _crud_ , Riley." She gaped up at her. "What do I do?"

Riley shrugged. "I've never been in your shoes, Gryff."

"He's my _best_ – sorry, _other_ best friend."

"I know that."

"He's – _Circe_." This explained everything: the painstaking awkwardness, the odd burn of jealousy whenever she saw him with another girl, the swirling feeling in her stomach that she'd put down to the winter flu.

"You could –" Riley began.

"I _can't_."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"I can't tell him! That would be a disaster! Awful. He _obviously_ doesn't feel the same way –"

"You don't know that –" Riley pointed out.

"He just said yes to going on a date with another girl. He wouldn't have done that if he was madly in love with me."

"Fair. But he _might_ like you – he might not know it yet, though. Guys are slow."

Victoire shook her head wildly, like a dog shaking water out of its' fur. "I still can't tell him."

"Okay." She shrugged. "Your choice. But you can't like an idiot around him either."

"Huh?"

"Flailing, turning red, sounding like Madrigan – it won't work in your favour."

"Yeah, but I can't just _talk_ to him – he's going out with another girl."

"So be mad at him."

"I _am_ mad at him."

"Show him that, then. You're not the kind of girl who'll flutter your eyelashes at him, Vic. Just be yourself. Like you always are. If it's meant to be, it'll happen. Maybe his date with Matilda will go awfully, and he'll come running to you. But don't act desperate."

Victoire bit her lip and glanced at the paved concrete beneath her. "Guys are hard."

"They are," agreed Riley. "But girls are stronger. Yeah?"

The blonde nodded slowly, releasing a deep breath. "I guess."

"Good." The Slytherin settled back against a pillar and folded her arms. "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

"Maybe later. I think…" She paused and closed her eyes briefly, focusing on the crazy mess of chemicals that she'd not been able to identify before swirling around in her head. _Love_. Was that really what this was? She'd read about it, heard about it, seen it in the way her parents looked at each other, in their smiles, glances and brief touches. She'd always thought that she would recognise it immediately. And yet she'd never in a million years imagined it would feel like this: confusing, masked, nearly impossible to pin down.

"I think I need some time to process this."

"That's fair," said Riley, hesitating. "Do you…want to hear something else?"

She wasn't sure she did – she wanted to curl up under her covers, draw her knees to her chest and lie in the dark, pretending to be asleep but really letting her thoughts take her on a tour through the depths of her mind. She wanted to explore her emotions, figure them out, attempt the Herculean task of trying to understand them. But Riley had been there for her, and now, it was her turn to listen.

"Sure."

"It's not quite as exciting," warned the brunette wryly. "But when I was talking to Professor Smith – he said some things."

This piqued Victoire's interest. She listened closely as Riley related the story, her eyebrows knitted together.

"Weird."

"Yeah," said Riley, sighing and pushing her hands further into her pockets. "He…I don't know. He didn't sound or look like himself. And when he said things are going to change –" She broke off, hesitantly, and looked into the distance, concentrating on some far-off star. "I don't know. It just reminded me of –"

"The letter," Victoire finished for her.

"Yeah."

The blonde caught the skin of her lip between her teeth. "You don't…you don't think –" She struggled to say it out loud, though she knew that Riley was thinking it too. "You don't think he's the Follower, do you? From the letter?"

She wanted Riley to laugh scornfully, to shake her head and tell her she was being ridiculous. Instead, she screwed up her nose slightly, as if considering, and said, simply: "I don't know. I mean, he's a Hogwarts professor, and I'm fairly sure they weed out Pureblood supremacists at the application stage. But again – it's not the first time he's said something strange to me."

"What?" She blinked. "You've not said –"

"It was at Hallowe'en. He walked me back to the Slytherin Dungeon after I was – you know, assaulted. And he said…I don't remember the exact wording, but the general gist of it was that Teller and his friend attacked me because they were _jealous_ that I was a pureblood. Because I had a 'place' in wizarding society."

"That's ridiculous!"

"I know. I figured he was just trying to rationalise it in a different way, make sure I didn't go after them trying to get revenge or something, but it was weird."

"I'll say." She paused. "He just… doesn't seem like the type though."

"I know," said Riley, thoughtfully. "He doesn't. It's all very odd, don't you think?"

Victoire ran her tongue over the tips of her bottom teeth, and sighed, watching as the breath escaped her and dissipated into the wide, open air.

"I guess it's just been one of those nights."

.oOo.

 _VII: Uncertainty_

 _(n.) the state of being uncertain – not completely confident or sure of something_

"So, since when do you like Matilda Goshawk?" asked Ella, folding her arms teasingly, and settling back against the wrinkled trunk of the old oak tree. The temperature had – surprisingly – taken a turn for the better, and Ella, Alfie and Teddy were celebrating the warmth by completing their homework outside, by the Great Lake instead of huddled inside the library, or the Hufflepuff Common Room.

"Yeah," reiterated Alfie, grinning wildly. "We let you off on your own for one evening, and you come back with a _date_."

Teddy reached up to run a hand through his turquoise hair. "I don't know that I _do_ like her," he said, awkwardly. "I mean – I _do_ like her, of course I do, she's lovely, but as a _friend_. Not as a girlfriend. I don't really like _anyone_ in that way."

Ella cocked her head. "Have you told Matilda that?"

"Not exactly," he admitted sheepishly. "It sounds worse than it is – I'm not leading her on."

"You wouldn't," said Alfie confidently.

"No, I wouldn't. But she was so hopeful, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I figured – what's the harm in agreeing to one date? We're friends anyway, so we'll probably have a nice time, and if at the end, she doesn't realise that we're probably better suited to being just friends, then I'll say something."

"Unless she changes your mind." Alfie waggled his eyebrows.

Teddy gave him a push. "Git."

Ella looked a little more hesitant. "Well, if you're sure –"

"Ella. I'm not going to hurt her."

"Yeah, come on, Ella. This is Teddy we're talking about. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I know, I know." She held up her hands placatingly. "I know Teddy wouldn't hurt Matilda intentionally. It's just…well…romance is a tricky thing."

"Since when are you an expert?"

"Shush, Alfie. I'm not. I'm just saying that sometimes, you can have the best of intentions and end up hurting someone anyway."

There was a gravity to her voice that suggested she was speaking from personal experience. Alfie and Teddy exchanged a look; Ella hadn't been entirely forthcoming about the reasons for her break-up with Leonardo Torricelli, and they hadn't wanted to ask.

"Are you okay?" Teddy asked slowly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me, alright? I'm over it. I'm just saying – be careful, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, running his fingertips over the short blades of grass contemplatively. "Okay."

.oOo.

 _VIII: Loneliness_

 _(n.) sadness because one has no company_

It was only on the morning of the Hogsmeade trip that Alfie Hayes realised, with a start, that he would be spending it all alone.

He perched on the end of his bed, watching Teddy do up the fiddly buttons on the shirt he was wearing – a striped, short-sleeve button-down that Alfie had never seen before. Instead of jeans, the metamorphmagus was kitted out in chinos. The outfit made him look older, like the university students that populated the streets of Oxford.

"You look good."

"Do you really think so?" said Teddy nervously, tugging at his collar. "I feel like a bit of an idiot, dressing up like this."

Alfie waved a hand dismissively. "You're hardly _that_ dressed up."

"It's just to show respect," he replied, matter-of-factly. "My grandmother says that when you go out with a girl, you should dress nicely to show that you value her, and her company."

Alfie shifted somewhat uncomfortably. "Have you –" he broke off, thinking better of himself. There was no point in humiliating himself.

"Have I what?"

"It's nothing."

"Alfie." Teddy cocked his head, and shot him a questioning grin. "Come on."

He let out a short, sharp breath, and glanced at the floor. "Have you been out with a girl before?"

Teddy looked as if he hadn't been expecting this. "No. You'd know if I had."

"Yeah."

"Hey." He turned from the mirror and sat down on Alfie's bed, next to him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just being stupid."

"No, you're not."

"It's just – you and Ella have been on dates –"

"I've not _been_ on one yet."

"Yeah, well you're about to go. And I've not."

"Alfie, there's _plenty_ of time."

"I just…" he sighed. "I know. It's stupid."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is. I…I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Teddy hesitated, his eyes wide and concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Alfie nodded.

"Well, in that case – I promised Matilda I'd walk down with her, so I should probably go find her – but only if you're alright."

"I'm fine," the brown-haired Hufflepuff replied, forcing a smile from his lips up to his eyes, and hoping it was convincing. "Go. Have a great time."

(x)

Alfie walked down to Hogsmeade with Ella, who was also dressed a little more formally than usual, in black dress trousers instead of jeans, and a cream T-shirt that looked like it was made out of some kind of shiny material – silk, maybe satin. She kept wringing her gloved hands and glancing at her watch, as if she was late, when in fact, she still had over an hour to get to her aunt's.

"Do you want to grab a Butterbeer before you go?" he asked tentatively.

"Huh?" She looked up at him startled, and Alfie felt a slight pang of hurt – it was like she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh. No, thanks, Alfie. It's a little too early in the morning."

"Coffee, then." He knew she preferred coffee to tea.

"No, thanks. I think…I don't want to be late to see her, you know. I'd rather be early. I don't know her very well as yet, she might think I'm being disrespectful if I show up late."

A stab of disappointment hit him suddenly, like a blade through his stomach. Alfie pressed his lips together and focused his eyes inwards, trying his best to control the wave of dizziness rising in his head. He didn't know _why_ he was feeling like this – it wasn't as if he was possessive, or that he had a _problem_ being without Teddy and Ella. But all the same, he did not want to spend a whole day on his own.

"Could I – " He hesitated, stopping himself. She'd say no. Of course she would.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Alfie."

"Could I come with you?"

"Where?" Her brows knitted together, confusion written across her face. "You don't mean to see my aunt?"

It was a stupid idea, he knew it was a stupid idea. He glanced away from Ella and let his eyes settle on the side of the path, where the snow was beginning to melt and the short, weary blades of grass were beginning to poke through the white blanket once again.

"Alfie –" Her voice had softened, and he thought he detected a note of pity in it. _Why_ did he have to open his stupid mouth? "It's…it's not that I don't want to introduce you to her, of course I do – you're my best friend. But it's just a bit early. I've only met her once."

"Of course," said Alfie, trying not to choke over the words. "Yeah, of course. I shouldn't have asked. Sorry."

"I'll be done soon, and then we can get that Butterbeer."

He didn't want her to hurry because of him. "Take your time. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Ella's eyes remained on him, her gaze like a weight dragging on his shoulders. "Maybe you can go find Riley and Victoire in the meantime."

"Yeah." He had no intention of doing so – Riley and Victoire were their own unit, and he didn't fancy feeling like the odd one out – but he didn't want Ella to feel guilty about leaving him on his own. Secretly, he was a little upset that she hadn't volunteered to visit her aunt some other time, but he also knew that this was important to Ella, and he hated himself for wanting to stand in her way.

They had reached the street that Ella had to turn down to reach her aunt's house, but before she left, she turned to Alfie, her dark eyes searching and sympathetic. "You'll be okay?"

"Of course."

She smiled at him before she left, and he stood and watched her go until she was no more than a speck in the distance. Then he turned away, and shoved his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet along the street without purpose or direction.

A gust of wind blew through the air, ruffling the back of his brown hair and lifting the tails of his scarf in front of him. He pushed his fingers further into his pockets and pulled his arms close to his body to conserve heat.

Funny to think how just a few days ago, the sun had been prominent in the sky, the rays soaking through his pale skin; and he, Teddy, and Ella had been laughing by the Great Lake.

Now he was all alone.

.oOo.

 _IX: Adronitis_

 _(n.) Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone_

"Stupid, bloody, _prat_ ," Tabitha James swore to herself as she stormed down the stucco-lined streets of Pimlico, wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck to protect herself against the intensifying gale.

She'd just been to see the wand expert, Blackwell – her new least-favourite weekly. When Tabitha had tried to ask Potter to go instead, he'd laughed at her (the _gall_ ). He said Tabitha was far more adept at instilling the fear of God into people, and while she agreed, she could have sworn that she wasn't instilling much fear into Blackwell at all – instead, he was working even _more_ slowly, and he refused to tell her anything, citing uncertainty and an unwillingness to draw premature conclusions.

Tabitha wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his obnoxious, superior attitude but managed to restrain herself – just about.

The clouds shrouding the sky seemed to darken as she turned down Gloucester Street, full and nearly bursting. A few fat rain drops pelted her skin, and she swore under her breath, knitting her eyebrows together. Why couldn't Munroe live down a deserted street where Apparation was a legitimate travel choice, rather than a flagrant violation of the Statute of Secrecy? Idiot.

She quickened her pace, keeping her hands near her body and her feet light as she walked down the long, winding street, hoping to reach warmth before the drizzle turned into a downpour. It didn't seem likely, but London weather was capricious, and ten seconds could be the difference between staying dry or catching one of those godforsaken colds that didn't go away until spring arrived and hayfever took over.

She was fifty metres from Munroe's door when she saw her.

Cecilia Carrow was the kind of beautiful that Victorian novelists prized: pale, delicate, entirely feminine. Her curls were soft and dark brown, and they framed a rosy-cheeked face as smooth and soft as a pad of cotton. She looked effortlessly put together – like a porcelain doll in twenty-first century clothing – but Tabitha knew that nothing about her was effortless. From the way she dressed, to the way she held herself, _everything_ was the result of years of breeding and wealth. She stood on the stairs outside Munroe's flat, her head held high and her arms folded, speaking to the blonde Auror with a look of conviction on her face.

Tabitha instinctively moved behind a pillar. She felt almost like a clumsy burglar – sneaking around, but startlingly incongruous with her surroundings. All Cecilia had to do was step out and she'd see her – they'd pass on the street, they'd smile awkwardly at one another while simultaneously avoiding eye contact. Tabitha didn't have a plan. She liked being prepared.

 _What was Cecilia doing here?_

Tabitha had never seen her before, but the ease of her manner told her that this wasn't a reunion – this was a regular occurrence. Cecilia and Munroe met – and often –yet Tabitha had always managed to miss her, and Munroe had never mentioned her. Moments, memories began to enter her mind: tiny unexplained things, like when she'd rung Munroe's doorbell and he hadn't answered, or when he'd left work early for a 'Healer's appointment'.

He always told her when he was going down to the pub with his mates for a pint. He told her about letters from his sister, and visits to his mum up in Edinburgh, but he'd never once mentioned Cecilia Carrow.

 _Why not?_

Granted, he'd never mentioned Mandira Tiwari either, but he had a legitimate reason to hide his correspondence with her – it was illegal. But Cecilia Carrow – there was nothing _bad_ there, at least not to an innocent bystander, as Munroe might presume Tabitha to be. Sure, she wasn't fond of Riley Carrow, but surely Munroe would've used his link to Cecilia to try and defend Riley back when Tabitha had interviewed her – _she's my best friend's daughter, she's fine – Cecilia's never said a word about blood purity, no way would she or her daughter know anything about this_.

But he hadn't.

Cecilia reached forward and enveloped Munroe in a hug – Tabitha felt a stab of an emotion that felt suspiciously like envy go through her, but she quickly quashed it. This was no time for emotional attachment. Then, turning elegantly, like a ballet dancer, Cecilia walked down the street in the opposite direction. Tabitha exhaled slowly, and waited until she was well out of sight.

The rain was falling harder now, hitting the asphalt emphatically. She barely felt the drops rolling off her skin; a fire was beginning to burn angrily within her, sending waves of warmth through her veins.

She buzzed the doorbell and a moment later, Munroe opened the door. His blonde hair was neatly combed back – standing in stark contrast to her own dark, wet locks – and he wore a startled expression.

He'd thought it was Cecilia, back for something she'd forgotten.

He'd _wanted_ her to be Cecilia.

 _Damn it._

"Tabs –" he began, but she shook her head urgently and, grabbing his hand, pulled him up the stairs and towards his apartment.

 _Screw relationships_ , she thought as she slammed the door, grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her, her lips crashing against his.

Angus Munroe was nothing more to her than a suspect.

.oOo.

 _X: Kinship_

 _(n.) Blood relationship; a sharing of characteristics or origins_

Tea, again.

Ella did not like tea all that much, but Radhika _masi_ had offered, and she did not yet feel comfortable enough to turn her down. _Masi_. The word felt foreign on her tongue: she'd heard it being used, her aunt signed her letters off with the title, but never before had Ella had the opportunity to use it, and she thought she never would.

The Ravenclaw had expected to feel more at home on her second visit, but a guilty mist still swirled in her mind.

Would visits to Radhika always be like this – warm tea and sugary biscuits laced with guilt on the sofa? Would they ever reach the easy nonchalance of visiting family, where each of them did their own thing, but remained comfortably in each other's company. She, Ella, would read, and Radhika would work on her latest case, and occasionally they'd stop to share insights, and laugh together.

That guilt again – it was horribly uncomfortable, like too-tight jeans, cutting into her stomach, loosening and then tightening again when she least expected it to. She was imagining a future with her aunt that her mother hadn't wanted for her.

But perhaps her mother had acted hastily in cutting Radhika so completely out of Ella and Ashton's lives. If it really was a matter of words exchanged years ago – and Ella had no reason to believe it _wasn't_ – then perhaps it was time to let bygones be bygones, and by coming to Radhika's, she could help both her aunt and her mother realise that – realise that beyond anything else, they were _family_ and families were meant to be together. Ella felt almost as if she should have had the chance to decide whether or not to have Radhika in her life.

Though all these thoughts, and more, swirled in her mind as she sipped her tea, there was a newfound ease to the conversation. Radhika asked about school and her friends, and Ella – surprisingly – held very little back, telling her all about Teddy and Alfie, about the girls she shared a dormitory with and about her recent break-up with Leonardo.

It was nice to have someone _detached_ to talk to, someone who could offer an outside viewpoint. And Radhika often did – Ella never felt like the conversation was one-sided. She was always interjecting with her own, parallel stories, or advice about what to do, or even just murmurs of approval.

"You'll stay for lunch, won't you, Ella?" asked Radhika.

"Oh!" Ella almost choked on a piece of shortbread. "Oh, no, I couldn't impose. Thank you."

"Nonsense. You're staying." The elder woman's voice was firm, but kind, and there was a smile laced with conviction on her face. It was infectious; Ella felt the corners of her own mouth tug upwards.

"I'd love to."

"Excellent." Radhika got to her feet, straightening her long grey skirt. "You can tell me all about this girl you say you don't like – what was her name – Daisy. I hope you like salmon."

(x)

It was only much later, when the plates had been cleared away, and dessert – _gulab jamuns_ that Ella simply couldn't have turned down, even if she'd wanted to – had been served and demolished, that a lull formed in the conversation. They were back in the elegant, magazine-like living room: Ella's eyes darted from surface to surface, as she tried to formulate the question she had been meaning to ask. It had been in the back of her mind for the whole visit, and yet she simply hadn't had a chance to voice it.

Finally: "Last time we met, you told me about Mandira. About how you investigated, and the evidence against her was solid."

Radhika's face hardly changed, but Ella was perceptive: she picked up on the lift in the older woman's eyebrows, on the crinkles that formed as her eyes narrowed. It was clear she was reluctant to speak further.

"I'm sorry," said Ella, "we don't have to –"

"It's alright," Radhika demurred, leaning back on the sofa, her mug clasped in her hands. "I suppose – well, it must've been a shock for you, finding out so suddenly about her. And you can't exactly talk to your mother about it."

There was something off in her tone that had Ella instinctively spring to her mother's defense. "What do you mean?"

"Relax, _pari_." Her voice was placating, not patronising. "I just mean that your mother wouldn't want to talk about Mandira."

"And you do?"

"No. But I see the need for you to know about her."

There was a pause. "What was the evidence?" asked Ella. "I've read up on her – I must've read every book in the Hogwarts library that mentions her, not that there are many. But there's only so much you can learn from reading, and not _one_ of those books mentioned _why_ everyone was so confident it was her.

"Not one?"

"Well, there was one that said Mandira's wand cast the curse."

"That is true," demurred Radhika. "Ministry wand analysis found that Mandira's wand was responsible."

" _Yeah_ , but I don't get it." Ella shook her head. "Wand analysis isn't definitive – it tells you _whose_ wand cast the curse, not _who_ cast the curse. It could've been someone else – someone using Mandira's wand."

Radhika's eyebrow lifted again. "Clever. But there was more."

Ella could feel her breathing quicken, and she struggled to maintain control. She didn't want to seem too eager. "What do you mean?"

"There was a witness."

The air caught in her throat.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting. It wasn't as if she, a fifth-year Hogwarts student, could've stumbled upon a Ministry error – _oh, yes, Ella, you've just blown a massive hole in the case, congratulations._ She didn't even _want_ to – she knew _nothing_ at all about Mandira Tiwari. The woman was as much of a stranger to her as any random muggle she might run into on the tube.

And yet, she inexplicably had hoped – without knowing why, without truly even _realising_ it – that Mandira Tiwari was innocent of the murders. For surely that would mean she was innocent of the kidnappings. And then, perhaps, it would turn out that all of this had been nothing but a terrible dream.

She barely understood the jumble of thoughts and emotions mixed up in her head, but Radhika seemed to. Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Ella raised her head.

Radhika didn't offer an explanation; instead, she continued the tale, slowly, but steadfastly, with all the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was talking about and believed wholeheartedly in its veracity: "When the Ministry arrived on the scene after Mandira's attack, she was gone. But they found a muggle man, curled up in a corner, shaking, afraid for his life. I don't know how he survived, but he did, and he witnessed the whole thing. He identified Mandira."

"He couldn't have been mistaken? He was a muggle –"

"Muggle or wizard, he could identify a murderer," Radhika said sharply.

Ella recoiled. "Sorry. I didn't mean –"

Her aunt met her eyes, and softened. "No. Of course you didn't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"That's alright," mumbled Ella, but she did not settle back against the sofa.

"I have – rather, I had contacts in the Ministry at the time. Aurors, lawyers – the sort who were well-placed to know what was going on. Not only did the witness identify Mandira after the fact, his memory of the event was extracted and examined via pensieve. It's slightly modified – the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad acted too early, some argue, but it was essential he didn't realise that he'd seen Mandira perform magic. Word spreads fast. He simply saw her blow up, and thanks to their deft work, incorrectly assumed she'd set off a bomb, even though they did not plant a memory _of_ the bomb. Amazing, isn't it? The human mind can create a narrative based on a few, salient details."

 _A witness. Pensieve evidence._ It was all coming at her fast and hard, and she struggled to digest it, to form a timeline in her mind.

"Did she act alone?"

Radhika shrugged. "We think so. Many death eaters had never heard her name before – "

 _No, she wouldn't accept that._ Boldly, she asked: "Do you think that friend of Mandira's you mentioned last time –" she feigned forgetfulness, screwing up her nose in mock concentration. "What was her name? Cecilia something."

Her aunt's eyebrows lifted, the whites of her eyes becoming more prominent against her contrasting skin. Ella noticed, for the first time, that she wore contact lenses. "What makes you think that?"

A shrug. "I don't know – it's just that you said you wouldn't have been surprised if Cecilia was a death eater. And it's not easy to blow up a street of muggles on your own."

A mist drifted across Radhika's eyes; her irises seemed to fade, the dark brown becoming overlaid with strange grey clouds. Ella supposed it was simply a trick of the light.

"I wouldn't want to speculate," said Radhika at last.

Ella gave her a knowing look. " _Masi_. Come on."

Perhaps it was finally being called something she'd not been called for sixteen years. Perhaps it was the newness of it all – the desperate want to connect with the niece she'd only just met. Perhaps it was a simple desire to _talk_ with family about something that was so difficult to talk about.

It could have been for any of these reasons, or perhaps for a million others, but either way, Radhika Tiwari sighed and said: "There was a time when I was visiting Mandira at the same time as Cecilia. I overheard them in Mandira's room, reading the newspaper, and Cecilia said…"

She trailed off, her gaze distant, as if consumed by the memory.

" _Masi_?" Ella prompted, her curiosity deepening.

"They were reading about The Battle of the Department of Mysteries. I don't know – you're too young to –"

"I know about it," she said quickly.

"Of course. Well, there was an article on it, and Cecilia said, with such awe: 'Wow. I wish I could've been there. I wish I could have helped – maybe then the Dark Lord wouldn't have lost.'"

Beads of cold sweat began to form in the crevices of Ella's palms. "What did Mandira say?"

"She laughed. Said something about Cecilia hardly being the best wand around, not likely to be the deciding soldier in battle. But I'll never forget the way Cecilia talked – she had a real fervour for the Dark side."

There was a heavy pause, each of their unsaid thoughts hanging between them – undeniably present, but just out of reach to the other.

"Wow," said Radhika slowly. "Yeah. I guess. I mean, I've not thought of it, and I would never accuse her. She probably changed. But if she was the same Cecilia back then – then maybe she was working with Mandira after all."

 _And maybe_ , thought Ella, _she's still working with her now_.

.oOo.

 _XI: Agreement_

 _(n.) Harmony or accordance in opinion or feeling_

So far, thought Teddy, his date with Matilda had been rather unlike what a date was supposed to be.

First, he offered to take her to Madam Puddifoots for tea and an early lunch, because that was what everyone who went on dates seemed to do. Archie Quintin, one of the boys in Teddy's dormitory took a different girl to Hogsmeade nearly every weekend, and swore by Madam Puddifoots. Apparently, it made girls feel special.

Teddy didn't see what was so special about going where everyone was, and doing the same thing everyone else was doing, but he figured he'd best ask Matilda, just in case she was expecting him to.

Thankfully, she screwed up her nose. "Madam Puddifoots? Do you _really_ want to?"

"Honestly," he admitted, his cheeks colouring slightly, "not really. It's too…"

"Pink?"

"No – well, yes, that too. I was going to say pretentious."

"Agreed," said Matilda solemnly.

There was a moment of awkward silence; Teddy ran a hand through his hair nervously, trying to think of something else to do. She liked owls, didn't she? "Er – would you like to go to the Post Office? And then maybe go to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer?"

He was afraid for a moment that she'd laugh at him – the Post Office wasn't exactly the most _romantic_ location. He was fairly sure Archie Quintin would disapprove.

Thankfully, Matilda's eyes lit up. "That sounds wonderful."

Amongst the rambunctious, loud hoots of the Post Office owls, the awkwardness quickly disappeared. Matilda chattered constantly about owls and cats and all sorts of magical creatures, and mentioned that she might like to become a veterinarian after Hogwarts.

"And maybe once I've retired, I could come back to Hogwarts and teach Care of Magical Creatures."

"You'd be a good teacher," said Teddy, holding the door of the Three Broomsticks open for her. The pub was crowded, Hogwarts students swarming in and out of booths, and hanging around tables, laughing and chatting. He spotted Victoire with Riley in a corner, and smiled at her, but she was too far away for him to tell whether or not she'd seen him. He thought of going over to say hello, but figured it might be a bit awkward: Matilda and Victoire barely knew one another.

"Do you think?"

"Yeah." He turned his attention back to her and smiled warmly.

The afternoon passed quickly: they chatted and laughed easily as they weaved in and out of different stores along the High Street, and in Honeydukes, he bought her a slab of her favourite honeycomb chocolate. Still – he couldn't shake the feeling that everything had almost been _too_ easy.

Teddy had never been on a date before, so he had nothing to compare it to, but being with Matilda had been just like hanging out with Alfie and Ella. There was nothing _different_ about it – at least, nothing he could put his finger on.

He didn't quite know what to do – should he _say_ something to Matilda, or put his arm around her? Should he kiss her on the cheek? These were all things he'd seen couples do on dates, but at no point during the day had it seemed like he _should_ make a move. She'd given no hints – she'd not wiggled closer to him, or gazed longingly into his eyes, nor had she brushed his hand with her fingertips.

The brunette seemed to be able to read his mind, for she slowed and turned to him. "Listen, Teddy – I've had a really lovely time today."

He smiled back. "So have I."

"But –"

 _Oh no_ , he thought. She was lying. He'd done something wrong – hurt her feelings somehow. Should he have held her hand?

"I think we're better off staying friends. Not…dating, as such."

"Oh." He let out a short laugh.

She misinterpreted it: "It's not that I don't like you!"

"No, no, don't worry, Mat, I know. I completely agree. We're better as friends."

Matilda let out a sigh of relief. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

"Well, good." She grinned up at him, and he returned her smile. "I should probably get back up to the castle."

"Sure."

"Are you coming?"

"Not just yet – I'm going to quickly see if Alfie's still around. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Okay." She hesitated for a second. "Teddy?"

"Yeah?"

Matilda stepped towards him, her boot crunching against the stones on the high street pavement, and, without warning, wrapped him in a warm, tight hug. Teddy, startled, went rigid, but soon relaxed and softly put an arm around Matilda, patting her gently on the back.

"Thank you," she said, as she released him. "I really did have a lovely time."

The brunette turned to leave; Teddy watched her go, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. He hadn't known what to expect when Matilda had asked him out. He'd been worried he'd lead her on, pretend he felt something he didn't, just so he didn't hurt her.

But in the end, everything had worked out perfectly.

"So," came a gruff voice from behind him, "you're dating my sister, eh?"

Michael Goshawk approached Teddy, his arms folded and his stride commandeering.

Teddy raised an eyebrow, more out of surprise than anything else. He had been friends with Michael Goshawk since first year, in a casual sort of way – they occasionally worked together on projects, sometimes sat together at mealtimes, and had brief conversations when they ran into each other in the halls – but never once before had Michael mentioned Matilda.

It was often a struggle to remember that Michael and Matilda were related at all, let alone twins. Teddy couldn't remember seeing them together, apart from when they entered or exited Kings' Cross at the end of term, and even then, they barely said more than a few words to one another. Therefore, he had difficulty reconciling the notion of Michael as a protective brother with his previous behaviour.

Still, he answered. "No."

Michael narrowed his eyes, as if he didn't believe Teddy. "Weren't you on a date?"

"We were. But we decided we'd be better as just friends."

The Slytherin's eyes narrowed further until they were barely more than dark slits. "Really? Why?"

"It was her decision."

"You sure, Lupin?"

"Yes."

"Did she ask you out?"

"Yes, Michael."

"Why?"

Teddy shrugged and held his arms out. "Beats me. You'll have to ask her."

Michael scoffed. "You're not in a good mood."

There was nothing wrong with his mood at all, but Teddy did not fancy speaking to Michael for much longer – this line of conversation was beginning to feel a lot like an interrogation, and it wasn't as if Teddy had done anything wrong. He shrugged, hoping that the Slytherin would leave him alone.

It worked. "Suit yourself," said the dark-haired wizard. Unfolding his arms and placing his hands rigidly by his sides, he spun on his heel and stalked down the high street.

Teddy sighed and turned away, shaking his irritation out of his mind. If Alfie was still in Hogsmeade, he'd probably be at the Three Broomsticks, or in Quality Quidditch Supplies. The Quidditch store was just down a nearby alley: Teddy walked towards it, pulling a flyaway arm of his scarf nearer to his chest. He rounded the corner, and almost bumped straight into a small blonde wearing a red and gold jumper.

"Victoire!" he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. Although she didn't know Michael and Matilda very well, _everyone_ knew that there was something odd about their relationship. She'd probably be interested to hear what Michael had said to him. "You'll never guess what just happened."

She stared decidedly at her feet and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Vic?"

"Leave me alone."

A tremor ran down his back, and confusion furrowed his brow. "Are you okay? Has something happened."

"No." She tried to push past him, but he moved to stop her.

"Seriously, Vic, what's wrong?"

"Let me go."

"Vic!"

"I said, let me _go_."

"Why won't you talk to me? Have I done something?"

Victoire Weasley raised her head and stared at Teddy, piercingly, fire coursing through her striking blue eyes. "Why do you need to talk to me?" she said, her voice cutting. "Why don't you go hang out with your _girlfriend_?"

With that, she pushed past him forcefully, and stormed away, leaving Teddy standing all alone on the street, feeling as if something important had flashed in front of his eyes, and he had failed to see it.

.oOo.

 _XII: Reason_

 _(n.) The power to think, understand, and form judgements logically_

Saturday was tapering out slowly: the sun had long since disappeared, and the crescent moon was taking prominence in the sky, casting an eerie white glow over the nearly-deserted Hogwarts grounds. Few people were outside, taking solace by the warmth of Common Room fires or under duvets after an exhausting day out, but Teddy Lupin was not one of them. He sat by the old oak tree, absentmindedly skimming stones over the surface of the Great Lake, watching as they bounced weightlessly across the rippling water.

Teddy considered himself a social person. He loved being with his friends, and did not find small talk exhausting – if anything, it was reinvigorating. But sometimes, the allure of solitude was simply too much for him to resist. So he escaped the crowded confines of the castle for the wide expanse of the outdoors, where he sat, not reading, not writing – just caught up in his own, private thoughts.

"Mind if I join you?"

Teddy glanced up, startled. The moonlight reflected off Ella Anderson's glasses, masking her eyes, but there was a nervous apprehension written across her lower face. He nodded, and she settled beside him on the slightly damp grass, pulling her black robes beneath her and letting out a slow, controlled breath.

"How was the date?"

Teddy grinned. "Fine. No awkwardness. But we decided we'd be best just as friends."

He tried to hide the relief from his voice, and thought he'd succeeded, but Ella gave him a knowing glance. "Oh, really?"

"Matilda was the one who suggested it," he said, defensively.

"Fair enough."

"Something weird did happen though."

"Do tell."

He sighed and told her about Victoire storming off, her face burning with anger. "I don't get it – was she mad I didn't tell her about Matilda? I just…I didn't think to."

Ella's eyebrows lifted.

"What?"

"Nothing," mused the brunette. "Weird."

He gave her a funny look, but dropped it: "How was your day?"

The other let out a tiny scoff, and looked away, her eyes settling on a distant star.

"You alright?" he asked concernedly. He'd not seen Ella since that morning.

"Yeah. I'm…" She hesitated.

"Ella?"

"Radhika _masi_ told me some…stuff." He listened intently as she explained the evidence against Mandira.

"Wow," he said when she was finished. "That's…conclusive."

"I hoped she was innocent," said Ella, bluntly. "I _really_ hoped that she was innocent. I've never _met_ the woman, but I…"

"Hey," said Teddy softly, reaching forward to take her arm. "Are you alright?"

He half expected her to shake him off and pretend she was fine, but instead, her hand closed on top of his, and he noticed the sheen of her eyes. "I will be. I just…I don't know. I hate being associated with _them_. The death eaters. I've always thought of myself as a good person – "

"Hey. We've been over this. Having a death eater in the family –"

"Doesn't make me a bad person. I know. But that wasn't all she said."

"What do you mean?"

Another exhale. "Look, I'm talking to you because, Alfie'll…he won't…he'll jump to her defense."

"Whose defense?"

"Cecilia Carrow. And I just…I want to get it all straight in my head first, before I have to argue with him."

"Okay?" He didn't attempt to hide his confusion.

It all came out in a jumble of words: everything Radhika had told her, from what she'd overheard a young Cecilia say, to her speculations about Cecilia and Mandira working together back then, and what, in Ella's opinion, that could imply about the current situation. "If it's true, then maybe Cecilia's Mandira's operative on the outside – the person who's carrying everything out. If they've worked together before, there's no reason why they couldn't do so again, now."

Teddy chewed on his lip, his stomach churning. "I don't know, Ella. It was a long time ago. It might've just been a phase, something she said in the heat of the moment. It doesn't mean that she was working with Mandira."

"I know. I just – I can't shake the feeling that I'm _missing_ something. Mandira's a suspect – that _must_ be why Tabitha circled her name, but she _obviously_ can't be kidnapping the children herself."

"No."

"So there must be someone else. And based on what Radhika _masi_ 's said, Cecilia seems like an obvious choice."

To Teddy, Cecilia seemed like the _only_ choice, but only because they had limited information. No matter what he, Ella and Alfie told themselves, they weren't aurors. They didn't have the resources, nor the means to solve this case, no matter how intimately associated with or targeted by the perpetrators they felt. He wanted to help Ella, but he could feel her slipping out of his reach. It was like she was on the precipice of a deep crater, and all he could do was grasp onto her and pray she didn't let go.

"I'm sorry to ask you this, Ella, but do you trust your aunt?"

Ella hesitated; Teddy could see the miniscular twitch of her muscles.

"Yes," she said, at last. "I have no reason not to."

He accepted this without question. Ella was a good judge of character. If she believed Radhika, then so did he.

"Out of curiosity – what did Cecilia do when Mandira killed the muggles?"

Ella's brow furrowed. "Sorry?"

"Did she condemn her outright? Did she plead that her friend was innocent?" He noticed the odd look Ella was giving him and shrugged: "I'm just trying to wrap my head around it, same as you."

"I didn't ask." Her voice was barely above a whisper; he could see her berating herself.

"Hey, don't worry –"

"No." The Ravenclaw's teeth gritted together. Her muscles tensed, and Teddy could see anger at herself spreading through her mind like a pernicious fog. "I should've asked."

They sat together in silence, until the cold seeped through the thin covering of their skin and into their bones, swirling and rattling like a ghoul in a cupboard. Teddy stood up first – Ella did not move, but he reached for her hand and drew her up. Slowly, like she was a small, exhausted child, he led her back inside and deposited her, safely, outside Ravenclaw tower.

He waited around a corner until she solved the riddle. Then he turned, and left, silently hoping that he was doing the right thing.

.oOo.

 _XIII: Self-Preservation_

 _(n.) The protection of oneself from harm, especially regarded as a basic instinct in human beings_

Natalia Shafiq's office was impersonal. The walls and surfaces were panelled in oak or mahogany, the colours and textures rich. A few austere paintings hung here and there: simple, monochrome, padded in white and framed in black. The woman herself sat behind her desk, clad in dark formal robes, her hands resting in front of her. Her mass of tight, corkscrew curls was firmly secured in a bun, and she wore no makeup apart from neutral lipstick and a thin wing of eyeliner.

Tabitha James admired few people. Natalia Shafiq was one of them. She ran the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with great mastery, combining her expert knowledge of the field with her people skills. Many had expected her, as the first woman to take on the job, to fail, but she had proven them all wrong.

Tabitha had not spoken to Shafiq much – Shafiq did not interfere much with the day to day running of the auror department. So when Tilly Castrade, well-recovered from her bout of the stomach flu, approached Tabitha and told her that Natalia Shafiq wanted to see her, she was stunned.

When Tabitha entered, Shafiq's back was iron-rod straight. Robards stood beside her, slouching against a cabinet, his arms crossed. He was smartly dressed, but next to Shafiq, he looked slovenly.

"You wanted to see me?" asked Tabitha.

"Yes, thank you for coming." Natalia did not ask her to sit. "An hour ago, we received a secure communiqué from Azkaban –"

 _Oh shit_. Tabitha's heart began to pound.

"Mandira Tiwari has escaped."

"You put in a request to visit her."

 _What did she know?_ Tabitha glanced at Robards but he gave nothing away. He couldn't have told her – he wouldn't have thrown her under the bus like that. Not when he had such lofty plans for her.

"James?"

"Yes, ma'am. As I said on my request form, we have reason to believe Mandira Tiwari has links to the kidnappings. She's been communicating with another key suspect."

She could feel the muscles in her back tense up as Shafiq's eyes narrowed, instinctively preparing for the question she thought was coming.

"And who is this 'key suspect'?"

Exhale.

She didn't know. Tabitha glanced up at Robards, who met her gaze with a serious stare. His eyes flicked back and forth so fast that another person might be unsure whether they'd seen it or imagined it, but she knew. He hadn't told. Natalia Shafiq had no idea that Tabitha had visited Mandira.

"James?"

Tabitha hesitated. "I'd rather not say."

"Really?" Shafiq raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am. We have yet to find conclusive evidence tying him to the kidnappings – it's all circumstantial at the moment. He has ties to the Ministry and Hogwarts and…I don't want to prematurely conclude anything."

"Your sentiments are admirable, but misguided. Who is it?"

Her heart was beating even faster now, thudding against her ribcage at an alarmingly high frequency. Six months ago, she wouldn't have had a problem selling Munroe out, but now…

She didn't want to lose her advantage. Once Natalia Shafiq knew, it would be out of her hands – she could blow Tabitha's cover, end Munroe's career. It would all be over within a split second, destroyed beyond recognition.

"Tabitha?"

Tabitha looked up at Robards again. He gave a tiny, imperceptible nod, and her heart sank. She refocused her gaze on Shafiq and said, her hesitation masked: "Auror Angus Munroe."

Shafiq's face remained still, but surprise was written all over her movements. She leaned back in her chair and whistled low beneath her breath.

"One of your own?"

It was addressed to Robards, who nodded. "We're investigating."

"He's on this investigation, am I correct?"

"Yes. We keep him out of the loop as much as possible – we can't take him off or we blow our cover, prove we're onto him."

"And he doesn't suspect?"

Robards looked to Tabitha, who shook her head. "I don't think so."

"And he doesn't know about Tiwari being a suspect?"

"No."

"Are you _sure_ , James?" Her hazel eyes were stern and searching. Tabitha met her gaze with equal firm aplomb.

"Yes."

"Well, if he does, it wouldn't surprise me if he tipped Tiwari off. Or even helped her escape – he'd be familiar with the security protocols. Damn it." She raked her teeth over her lower lip – the first time she'd displayed signs of broken composure. "One of our own. Do we confront him?"

The question was directed to Robards, and the Head Auror opened his mouth to respond, but Tabitha interjected. "No. It would blow our cover."

"If it's already blown –"

"We don't know that," she said sharply. "I'm – maintaining close contact with Munroe. I don't think he knows."

"Then we assign a tail," replied Natalia Shafiq, her voice cutting. "I cannot just sit back and do nothing, James. If you're maintaining close contact, as you say – and yes, I know what you're talking about –" Tabitha's cheeks did not colour " – then assuage any suspicions he may have."

There was no point in arguing. "Yes, ma'am."

"Any other known associates? Other people Tiwari may have been in contact with?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"An old friend of both Munroe and Tiwari. Cecilia Carrow."

The air in the spacious, wood-panelled office seemed to chill. " _Cecilia_ Carrow?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"That _is_ a surprise," murmured Shafiq, interlacing her fingers and resting her chin on top of her hands. "She's never expressed any sort of prejudice against muggleborns or muggles, even despite her…family ties."

"I think she's worth investigating anyway," said Tabitha, staunchly.

"Well – I suppose so. We'll assign a tail."

"Good." She glanced between Shafiq and Robards. "May I be excused?"

"Not quite yet," said Robards, pushing himself off the cabinet he'd been leaning on with his foot, and coming to stand beside Shafiq. "We're sending an investigative team down to Azkaban in thirty minutes to examine Tiwari's cell."

"Why the delay?"

"Once we send them, we can't stop the journalists getting hold of the story. We want a head start. Regardless, we'd like you to go down now. Check out the place before the team get there – see what you can find."

 _And get rid of any evidence that you were ever there._

His unsaid words burned into her skin like a brand, burying through the outer layers until they hit bone. It was a wonder that Shafiq seemed so impervious to the silent, ongoing conversation.

"Do you understand me?"

She raised her chin and met his eyes, strong and defiant. "Yes."

(x)

" _Azkaban_?"

"Yes, Potter," she didn't bother to hide the note of irritation as she grabbed her crossbody from her desk and slung it over her shoulder.

"What's going on?"

She shot him a look. "Walk me to the lift?"

He scrambled up from his chair. They walked in silence; Tabitha called for the elevator, and it arrived, empty. They entered, and, as soon as the doors shut, she began to speak in a low, urgent voice:

"Tiwari's escaped from Azkaban."

" _What_?"

"Shush."

"We're in a _lift_ , Tabitha, it's not like anyone's going to overhear us. What does this mean?"

"I don't know."

"Was she lucid enough to break out?"

She gave him a startled look and he sighed. "So it's true."

"How do you know?"

"I'm not an idiot. I saw the denied request, and I figured you'd try something. So you did visit her."

There was no point pretending. "Yes. And she was lucid. Scarily so."

"Does Robards know?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She rolled her eyes. " _Please_ don't lecture me about morals."

"I'm not going to. I'm just –" he paused and pushed his round glasses up his nose. "This has to mean something. Why now? And did she act alone?"

"Munroe and Cecilia Carrow have been assigned Ministry tails. Shafiq's orders."

Potter let out a low whistle. "Shafiq's expecting something to happen."

"As am I." The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. "Keep an eye out. If something's about to happen, we need to anticipate it. Stay one step ahead."

He nodded. "Tabitha –"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself, alright?"

A half-smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Of course."

(x)

Time does not pass in a jail cell. If it does, it leaves no visible traces.

Every corner of Mandira Tiwari's former confine closely approximated what it had looked like when Tabitha had last visited. There were certain small things that had changed: the sheets were more rumpled, and the book open on the bedside table was different, but otherwise, the most startling difference was only that Tiwari herself was not there.

Tabitha ran her gloved fingers against the concrete wall, feeling for cracks, damage – anything that would indicate _anything_. Nothing.

She didn't have much time. Deftly creeping forward, she knelt down and pressed against the floorboards. It didn't take her long to find the loose floorboard; wedging the tip of her nail under it, she pulled it up.

The box containing the Daily Prophets was still there. It looked as if Tiwari had gone through it a couple of times – the papers were no longer in the same order they had been in when Tabitha had visited. She paid it little heed – if she'd had more time, she'd have gone through them, seen whether there were any that were obviously missing. But she had more pressing concerns on her mind.

Next to the box was an unfamiliar envelope. Tabitha picked it up and extracted the parchment inside, unfolding it. Her breath caught in her throat.

 _Dear Angus,_

 _Thank you for sending the newspaper. It's always good to keep in touch with current events – these four walls can get claustrophobic, and it is often difficult to remember that there is a mad, chaotic world outside. What better than the_ Daily Prophet _to remind me of it?_

 _Something interesting happened recently. I know – you are probably wondering what could_ possibly _happen in here that could be deemed 'interesting'. Well, I had a visitor. An unauthorised one. Her name was Tabitha – I believe you know her_. _We spoke at length about –_

The letter broke off suddenly in the middle of the page. Tabitha flipped it over, but the parchment was blank, apart from the faded, backward marks of the ink that had seeped through the page.

Mandira hadn't finished the letter. Perhaps she had never had a chance – perhaps she'd simply forgotten about it. Regardless, a significant amount of relief washed over Tabitha. Mandira had not managed to tell Angus about her visit. She was safe.

She thanked the stars for Robards' foresight. It wouldn't have taken long for a team of trained aurors to discover the loose floorboard, and the letter would have gotten her into a lot of trouble. She slipped it into her bag and replaced the floorboard, letting out a slow, careful breath.

When she reached her apartment nearly an hour later, she lit a candle and held the parchment up to the flickering, orange flame, and watched it spread and consume it, turning the pale brown page into crumbling, black ashes.

It did not occur to her to question why Mandira had left this particular letter behind.

Mistake number two

* * *

 **A/N:** All definitions have been taken from the Oxford English Dictionary.

This may be the fastest I have ever updated since…2016? I'm in shock, you're probably in shock, let's try and make this a habit. As a result, though, this chapter's not as well-edited as I would like. Apologies!

The next chapter is one I've been REALLY looking forward to writing – spoiler alert: Tabitha heads back to Hogwarts – and for a good reason. Current ETA is the **16th of September!**

Reviews are my bread and butter, so if you've got something to say, even if it's just 'definitions, Nymphie? Seriously?', leave a review! There's nothing more motivating than knowing that people are reading, so please do come say hi!


	18. A Letter

Writing this breaks my heart.

I tried my best this summer to push through and write the remainder of 'The Lost Children' but ultimately, it's proving too difficult and taking up too much of my time. It's become something I stress about - a burden, rather than something I enjoy

I've graduated from university, and am moving into a new city - into a new stage of life. And with that transition, it's come time to leave certain things behind. It wasn't an easy decision, but Fanfiction has to be one of them. I'm going to finish out this season of QLFC because I've made a commitment that I intend to honour, and then I'm out.

I've loved writing about Teddy and co - they're characters that have been with me since I was 15, and it pains me to leave them behind. But the truth is, I simply don't have the time anymore.

I'm sorry - I know this will come as a disappointment (and feel free to PM me if you've got any outstanding questions regarding TLC). But it's what I need to do.

I hope you understand

xx Nymphie


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